


The Assassin Bureau

by Arvalee Knight (AvaWhiteRaven), AvaWhiteRaven



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 47,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/Arvalee%20Knight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/AvaWhiteRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassin's Creed Oneshots: This is a collection of various one shots for Assassin's Creed. Some of them are just pure fluff and others could be just pure smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Order's Finest: Altair/Arno/Ezio/Connor x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are an Assassin training amongst some of the finest recruits. Among them are a certain few who you've had your eye on. And you've unwittingly and delightfully found yourself the center of their attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PWP: This is the first time I have ever written in this style and... it was really stressful XD And I don't even know right now. I think I might need to do a little more editing

After a long and tedious day you found yourself at the public bathhouse, tossing aside the layers of leather and coarse cloth for the soft, fluffy towel. The bathhouse was one of the most luxurious buildings you'd ever walked into, the water heated naturally by springs and skirting along the walls were plush benches with plump pillows. The changing room was warm and comfortable, soothing your sore muscles.

You had spent most of the morning and early noon training. Then you spent the rest of the day cleaning up your weapons and armor, as well as everyone else's weapons and armors that cluttered the armory. You'd been assigned the task as "punishment" for taking one of the horses without permission. Your mentor had called it "deserting". You called it "harmful fun". And that led to your undeserved armory duty.

You'd been so furious about the events that had transpired earlier that day, you hadn't paid attention to where you were going. All of your thoughts were about getting revenge without getting caught. And, of course, whether or not all of your bath supplies were in the bucket in your arms: washcloth, comb, salt scrub...

You had just reached the edge of the bath, setting your bucket down and dipping your feet into the water when you looked up at them. You sat down on the cold stone, expecting to see other women, Assassins and towns folks alike.

Not... them. The Assassins. The greatest recruits the Order had ever seen. They'd traveled halfway across the world to train as Assassins, impressing each of their mentors one after the other. All three of them were near your age but they had managed to jump from one rank to the next the moment they'd arrived.

Altaïr was the most regarded and perhaps even feared. He'd been highly recommended by the Syrian branch head and after seeing his skill firsthand it was truly no surprise. Sitting with him was the flirtatious Ezio, just having arrived a month ago from Italy at the request of his uncle. Next to him was Arno an orphan who'd been snapped up and brought to the Order's doorstep years ago as a child.

They were highly regarded by the others and here you were, sitting on the edge of the bath in nothing but a towel. Your face caught fire when your vision roved from one sculpted abdomen to the next. You'd always found them attractive, many of the Assassins did, in fact. But to be caught in such an embarrassing situation...

You rolled your eyes up to the high ceiling above, cursing your luck. "I, uh... this isn't the women's room, is it?"

"Obviously," grumbled Altaïr.

"Mia bella." Ezio, his accent profoundly familiar, casually waded through the water. "No need for you to be ashamed. I'm sure... it was all accidental." He grinned widely. Something in his tone was playful, hinting that perhaps you'd wandered into the men's room on purpose.

"I... wasn't paying attention. I'm truly so sorry about this." You jerked your attention to your bucket, intending on gathering everything into your arms and making a hasty run for it.

"Stay awhile, mia bella." Ezio caressed fingertips up along your shin. The way Ezio looked at you... It was hard to say no. You nearly leaned towards him, kissed him even, but you suddenly felt self conscious next to him. All three of them were godly handsome, far more superior than you thought you could ever be.

"Th-thank you. But I should probably go." You placed your hand onto your bathroom supplies. "I completely forgot to grab my, uh, salt scrub and I couldn't possibly--"

He glanced at the bucket then to your eyes, a brow rising. "I saw it in there."

"That's the regular one..." You glanced away, to anywhere but their probing eyes, searching for any excuse. "I need my... pomegranate salt scrub. It's my favorite."

"You're in luck." Arno grinned as he reached onto the ledge near him and lifted a small container. "I have some here."

Ezio's luxurious lilt lowered into a soft whisper, "Does this mean you will stay with me?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard when his mouth dipped to your knee. You quickly reached out to stop him, nervous and jittery. "Excuse me?"

"You have a few scrapes, mia bella." His lips curled into a conniving smirk. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I kissed them better?"

Your breath tangled in your throat, catching any of the words that you should have muttered. You should have stopped Ezio. You should have made some excuse but... your toes curled as his moist breath tickled across your skin and his tongue swept over the minor cuts. It was hard to pry your gaze away from Ezio as he looked up during his next slow lick, assessing whatever reactions spilled across your features. You must have been enjoying it because Ezio grinned, rather pleased with himself.

"Now, Ezio." Arno came up behind him, hands squeezing his shoulders. "You should let her decide which of us she would rather have."

"Wait..." Your brows jolted high onto your forehead. "What?"

Altaïr shoved off the edge of the pool, his eyes like a predator as he marched forward. "It is clear that you wish to join us. You have watched us many times on the field." He pushed Arno out of the way, moving between him and Ezio until he stood unfaltered before you. "Correct?"

"Well, yes, but..." You curled your fingers over the soft fabrics of the towel, too nervous to unravel it, hugging it for security. What he said hadn't been a lie. You had watched them eagerly during training sessions and missions, taking delight at their skills and the way their bodies moved during battle. "Yes..."

"Do not be nervous, mia bella." Ezio's hand caressed across your knee. "We would never bring you harm. Only pleasure. In fact..." He waved a hand over towards Arno. "You should decide which of us is better. I'm not too worried, myself. I know it will be me in the end."

Arno gave a sharp laugh. "Do not count yourself so high, Auditore. She obviously likes a man with a... different touch."

Altaïr gripped firmly onto your legs, prying them apart and jerking your body forward until he could press himself between them. He spoke nothing, only watched your expression analytically as he pulled your hands away from the towel and placed them into your lap. You entire body quivered when his fingers fiddled with the fabric tucked against your breasts, slowly peeling it away until the humidity of the bathhouse lapped your bare skin, prickling your nipples.

"Shall we begin?" His eyes never left yours. He didn't even glimpse the body that he had exposed.

You swallowed your pulse. Without the towel you were incredibly exposed. You peered down at your body, feeling strangely cold and warm at the same time. You couldn't be sure if it was the bathhouse's humidity but the room felt too hot and your body felt suddenly warmer.

"I should go first," blurted Ezio, all too eager to impress.

Arno shoved his hand against the man's chest. "I think not. You've already had a moment. Now, it is my turn."

"Moment?" Ezio threw his hands into the air. "I kissed her knee."

Arno shrugged. "You wasted your opportunity. I cannot be reprimanded for your carelessness."

"Fine, fine." He pinched his fingers together, rocking them through the air. "Go ahead, frenchman. She will still find me better, either way."

Altaïr's lips thinned. He turned around, grabbing both of the men by the neck. "She will find neither of you better if you speak the entire time."

"So eager to watch us," Arno teased.

You clung to the pool's edge beneath you, fretful of whether or not these men would be dissatisfied once they'd had you. They seemed to be well experienced or at least incredibly cocky about it and here you were an absent-minded lower ranked Assassin who happened to walk into the wrong room...

Arno's finger gently grasped hold of your chin, nudging you to look at him. He had obviously seen your discomfort, your concern, whispering sweetly, "Don't worry so much. This is about your enjoyment not mine." He tilted his head ever so slightly, softly pressing his lips against yours. His tongue begged for entrance and you granted it, tasting the bitter espresso and the sweetness of chocolate. Each tug of his lips and sweep of his tongue, soothed whatever tension lingered in your body. You leaned towards him, encouraging the deepening kiss.

"No, no," Ezio pulled Arno away, a hand tossed in your direction. "You are doing this wrong. You can not simply rush into kissing her. You need to--"

"I think I know how to kiss a woman." Arno slapped the back of his hand against the Assassin's shoulder. "You are just jealous that she was enjoying herself."

"Nonsense." Ezio huffed. "Altaïr, you explain to him how this works." He threw his gaze to the Assassin who was leaning back casually watching, arms stretched out dominatingly on the bath's rim.

His body was relaxed but his eyes were narrowed and irritated. The Assassin lifted his chin, turning his head until his neck cracked. "If you do not begin soon, I will take my turn and when I am finished with her... she will have no need for you."

You pursed your lips, a laugh balled tightly in your throat. You tried not to grin or chuckle, knowing that it might wound someone's pride.

Arno wiggled his brows. "I shall continue then."

"It is my turn," barked Ezio with a toss of his hand. "You've had your moment."

He barred Ezio's way to you, not relenting so easily. "A moment that was rudely interrupted by you."

At this rate, nothing was going to happen. You glanced down at the small cuts along your knee, remembering how'd you gotten them earlier that morning in the fighting pit. Your brows drew together, irritated with yourself. You were an Assassin. You were a fighter not a cowering little girl. You'd taken down men twice your size and tracked down various targets for the Order.

You rolled your eyes and slid off of the stone floor and into the warm waters. Someone had to get things started. "Boys?" You placed a soft hand onto both of their arms, their muscles rolling beneath your sudden touch. "Perhaps... taking turns isn't going to work."

"Of course, it..." Ezio's mouth curled on the edges, something sparking in his eyes. His fingers wrapped around your waist as he stepped around you, his presence burning hot against your back. "Perhaps, not. Perhaps, we will have to take our pleasures together and see where it leads us."

Arno grinned mischievously as he placed his hands chastely on your hips. "You are alright with this?"

You gave a slow nod, feeling all too small and fragile between their large bodies. Assassin or not, your were intimidated but also very much enjoying yourself. You were shaking with delightful adrenaline.

Ezio pressed his mouth over your ear, whispering warmly, "Don't you want to know why we're trying to impress you?"

You turned your head ever so slightly, your gaze meeting his golden brown eyes. You'd assumed, naturally, that they were simply goading each other. They were seeing which of them was better with the ladies. You hadn't considered that they were trying to impress you specifically.

"You've watched us during training..." Arno's hands traced back and forth the curve of your waist and hips, taking in the smoothness of your skin. "And we've watched you for some time, as well." He leaned forward and suckled tenderly onto your neck, your shoulder rising against the tickling sensation.

You barely managed to speak the word, your mind was too busy swimming with the delight left behind by each of their touches, "Me..."

"You would be our rank by now..." Arno's humor was on the tip of his tongue.

Altair snapped bitterly, "If it weren't for your mouth."

"Stealing that horse," murmured Ezio, "Commendable. And foolish." His nipping teeth at the back of your neck caused you to gasp, your lips parting as his mouth roved fiercer into the muscle.

Arno pressed his mouth over your lips, tongue sliding easily over yours, massaging in rhythm with your own. It was a long, explorative kiss that pulled the breath from your lungs. He pulled back just long enough suckle your bottom lip, his large and calloused hands taking in the bones of your ribs and the softness of your breasts.

You couldn't be certain who's hands were where, your eyes were rolling shut with pleasure, just barely able to open them long enough to glimpse Altaïr's fixed glare. He was rigid with desire and lust, the eyes of a beast in need of something to satiate its hunger. His fists were clenched, chest heaving down a ragged breath. That look alone from him caused your knees to quake out from under you, a heavy weight pooling low in your body. Your hands held dearly onto Arno's broad shoulders, his muscles tensing with every movement that he made.

You found your footing, rubbing your backside against Ezio and his burning hot erection pressed between your frictioned bodies. He moaned against your spine, sending a wave of sensations down your back and into your groin. His fingers worked their way down your stomach, walking playfully across your skin which caused you to chuckle abruptly into Arno's next kiss. Ezio pressed his own laugh onto the curve of your neck just as his fingers dipped into your outer folds. He flicked and circled your clit, teasing it with each subtle touch until your hand reached back and clutched the dark strands of his hair, begging that he give you what you needed.

Arno's mouth worked a delicate trail across your jaw and down your throat. His teeth nipped briefly at your collarbone before the tantalizing descent to your breast. He kissed tenderly the skin around the base, sending a rush a blood across your chest. His tongue swept across your throbbing nipple, his hand squeezing painfully around the other, massaging and kneading until you released a heavy sigh.

You scraped your teeth across your bottom lip just as Ezio was sliding an explorative finger into your slick walls. You parted your legs, giving him undenied access to slip two more fingers inside. He plunged them to the knuckles. Your back arched and your head fell back as his digits curled and thrusted, knowing just when and where to touch until you were writhing.

Your knees buckled out from under you, clenching under the convulses of pleasure and delight, your inner walls moistening from your orgasm. You nearly melted, sinking deeper onto his digits. Their feverish bodies pressed even more firmly into you, skin against skin, the bath's water lapping greedily at your hips.

"Ezio," Arno whispered it roughly, lifting his mouth to peer at the man behind you. "You should grab some lubricant."

You barely managed to whisper the word, your voice trembling in your throat, "Lubricant?"

Arno licked his lips slowly, his arms encasing you when Ezio's warmth was no longer at your back. He kissed and licked beneath your ear, blowing hot breath against the wet spot until you shivered. "Do not fret, mon trésor. He knows what he's doing." He waltzed forward, leading you backwards to the edge of the bath and hoisting you up onto the cold stone. "Lie back. Rest a little."

You chuckled but pressed your back into the marble floor. "It's a bit cold..."

"Then I should fix that for you, shouldn't I?" His hand just barely grazed your opening, trailing upwards along your stomach. Your back arched, your body leaning towards his splayed touch. Arno breathed delicately over your skin, his breath cold and tickling out another chuckle from you. He pressed his hot mouth against your entrance and moaned, letting it verberate inside of you, his tongue shoving upwards across your swelling bud.

You whimpered, your fingers fervently grasping hold of the long tresses of his hair, tugging each time his teeth lazily scraped across your excessively sensitized clit. Arno knew how to use his mouth, sucking and teasing until you were close to peaking but not quite reaching it. A jolt of pleasure splintered your spine and convulsed your muscles, your shaky thighs gripping around his head. A flick of his tongue caused your hips to jerk off of the hard floor.

Arno pulled away and smirked, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. "Ezio?" He licked his swollen lips, his thumb wiping clean the sheen at the corner of his mouth. "Did you find any?"

Ezio tossed his hands at his side. "None good enough for what we planned." He sashayed forward, hips rocking and drawing your attention towards his solid and firm cock, the tip beaded with precum.

Arno glanced over you somewhat pitifully, jokingly, "She would certainly... break without any."

Ezio gave a pleased moan. "I believe it is my turn, yes?"

Arno gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulder, a glimpse over at Altair who was still silently watching. "You should hurry though. I do not think Altair will last much longer."

You tried to sit up but your stomach felt twisted and bruised, a painful knot that needed untying. You needed release, a better and longer lasting release that fingers and tongues couldn't provide. You watched wantonly as Ezio slipped back into the water and waded over. He hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you into the bath him, his hips expertly pinning yours into the stone wall.

He buried his mouth against your ear, rasping roughly, "Altair will want you when I'm done..." His hand glided down to your knee, anchoring it at his waist and exposing your pulsing slit. "He likes it when you tell him what to do."

You reached behind him, nails scraping down his back and grasping the firm muscle of his ass, digging harshly into it. "Should I practice with you first?"

Ezio growled through clenched teeth. "You could try," he dared, bucking his hips forward. Your body stilled. Ezio's full length rammed into your slick and tight body.

You choked back a gasp, grappling your arms around his neck for support, your walls pulsing with each roll of his hips. Your back painfully took the brunt of the bath's stone edge but the pleasure from each thrust clouded away any discomfort. You looked up and watched Arno's expression distort, an irritation about the suddenness of the Assassin's actions.

"Ezio," hissed Arno. "Gentle." He squeezed his body between the bath's wall and you.

You bowed your head into Ezio's neck, taking in the musk of his sweat. Your body rocked and swayed with his, your breasts crushing into his chest. Ezio's grip tightened, finger bones bruisingly digging into your thighs. He rutted noisily, deeper into you, the smack of skin and bone echoing through the room.

You were shoved backwards into Arno's body, your backside rubbing vigorously across his erection until it was sticky with his leaking orgasm. Arno husked a word under his breath, his hand caressing down between your shoulders and along your curving spine. His other hand careened between your body and Ezio's, seeking out the swollen heat of your clit. He pinched it painfully between his fingers, forcing you to cry out and clench your teeth.

Your body jerked, a heavy fire pooling low in your abdomen, wrapping warmly around Ezio's cock. They both seemed to take down sharps breaths, ragged and hoarse breaths desperate for more air to fill their burning lungs. Ezio's stomach quivered, trembling lips pressed into your forehead as his cum spilled with yours.

"God." Arno laughed languidly and pressed his lips to your cheek. "That was wonderful."

The stillness in the expansive room was cut short, the heavy metal door creaking open and closed. Arno's arms wrapped around you, hugging you loosely as Ezio stumbled backwards, his softening heat slipping out from you. Arno tried to hide you, turning his back to the door but whoever walked in must have caught a glimpse.

His sounded uncertain, wavering as he spoke, "What is... happening here?"

"Leave," ordered Altair, his voice reverberating through the room.

"Connor," Ezio enthused, still somewhat out of breath. "We were, uh... simply..."

"Is that... her?" He sounded even more confused than before. You looked over Arno's shoulder to see Connor leaning to the side, peering around the Assassin's protective stance. "You were having sex."

You waved your fingers, muttering weakly, "H-hello."

Arno's hold around you loosened. "Yes, Connor, we were having sex." He maneuvered your body, helping ease you up to sit onto the bath's edge. Arno made sure you were comfortable before turning his attention up to the additional Assassin.

Your body was still teeming, an underlying friction beneath your skin, an unsated trembling. You were energized and exhausted all at the same time. You took down a slow deep breath and watched the tension thicken between the Assassins.

Connor tilted his head, dark skin shimmering gold under the torchlights, his gaze sweeping across your figure. "I... don't think I understand how this happened."

"You will leave." Altair stood up, his body rigid and glistening with sweat after having painfully watched Ezio and Arno enjoy themselves. "I have no desire to wait."

Connor didn't seem phased. He rolled back his shoulders, a toss of his hand. "Then don't. I can wait..." Your vision rolled downwards to Connor's waist, a bulge already forming under his towel. "If she will have me."

You bowed your head away, grinning childishly with delight. You knew you should have rested, allowed yourself a moment to recollect your thoughts. Dazed or not, you wouldn't pass up a chance with Connor. And you remember delightfully what Ezio had told you. Altair liked people telling him what to do.

"Altair can wait." You lifted your chin, darkly looking over at the Syrian's animalistic burst of irritation.

Connor seemed to take a nervous step back, his gaze peeking timidly over at you as if he truly didn't believe what was happening.

"Together," he blurted, a carnal need in his desperate order.

You rolled your eyes about the bathhouse as if you needed some time to consider the idea. You didn't have to look at him to know that your disregard towards him was igniting Altair's frustrations. "I suppose..."

Altaïr pulled himself out of the water, sitting back onto the smooth stone, his eyes never leaving yours. He flicked a finger, motioning you to join him, his thighs widening to draw attention to his swollen, curved erection.

Connor didn't give you enough time to respond, however, stepping over. He helped you up onto your feet, nuzzled the bend of your neck before gathering you into his arms. He carried you over to Altaïr and set you onto your feet above him, almost offering you to the arrogant Assassin. But you knew well enough that Altair wanted someone to have power over him, someone to make him work for it.

Altaïr maneuvered until his body was aligned between your feet and leaned back, spine against stone. His body was flushed, the heat of the water and intensity of a searing blush reddened his skin. He slowly licked his lips, his eyes taking a long look over every inch of you. His hand gently took in the soft skin of your calf muscle. "Kneel," he muttered.

You slowly and confidently got down onto your knees, your determined gaze never wavering away from his. You leaned over him, dipping your mouth down to hover your lips over his. You took your time, drawing out the moment for as long as you could.

Altair attempted to lean forward, lust breaking his composure, a need to kiss you roughly.

Your hand took hold of his jaw. You pulled back far enough to glimpse his needy expression. "You wanted something from me?"

He narrowed his eyes, resenting your teasing but not fighting against it. A part of him wanted you to dominate over him, he wanted you to possess him. "Do I need to take it from you?"

You dug the tips of your fingers into his jawbone. "You have to beg me for it."

"I don't beg." He took down a painfully slow breath, his chest shuddering and his eyes taking in whatever was happening behind you.

You shrugged a shoulder at him but your confidence wavered when an intense warmth bit against your backside. Connor was kneeling down, his large hands engulfing your hips and thighs. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth over your shoulder, teeth scraping lazily at first then hungrily. He finally bit the muscle above your shoulder blade until you groaned and arched upwards into him, your spine fitting against his abdomen. Connor grunted, a rough hand following the arch of your stomach. Whatever timidness he held earlier was gone. He was carnal and confident, fingers curving over your hipbones. He forced you back, the very tip of his cock teasingly moving back and forth along your outer folds, never quite entering you.

Altaïr growled in irritation. His hand snapped hold of your neck, pulling you down until he could capture your mouth with his. His lips were rough and demanding, his grip around your neck bruisingly desperate. He released you from the kiss only until after you bit his lower lip, just hard enough to make him wince. "You taste like them," he stated it lowly, furious that they had somehow left their mark on you.

But you didn't have long to process it nor did Altaïr get another kiss. Connor thrusted forward until he was hilt deep pulsating inside of you. Your curled your nails down into the firm muscle of Altaïr's chest, digging them deeper with each wave of electricity that assaulted your senses.

Connor pulled back teasingly slow, a deep chested growl rumbling and his massive hands strangling your waist. He erratically rammed forward and back again. It was a messy rhythm, a senseless desperation especially when Connor's mouth wrapped around your ear and bit down.

A scream jutted free from your throat. You reached a hand back and scratched your nails around his neck which only seemed to draw another snarl from him, another frantic thrust.

Connor finally relented, soothing the bite with a slow sweep of his tongue and a silky kiss. "Forgive me," he rasped.

"Gentle," barked Arno, his eyes locking onto yours when you glanced over.

Ezio's eyes were closed. He was sitting against the edge of the pool, head rolled back. He was taking his own pleasure from the sounds alone, his fingers gripping low in the waters.

Connor's hips savagely jerked forward, shoving your arms out from under you. Your head pressed into Altaïr's neck, your hands clutching onto his shoulders. Altaïr lifted your head up far enough to coax another kiss out of you. He nibbled upon your lips, gentler than before, almost tenderly. He grabbed your trembling hand and led it down across his chest and over the firm hills of his abs. "Take it," he pleaded breathlessly, his hand lacing with yours around his twitching cock.

You gasped, your body rocking over his as Connor's heady pace quickened. You pressed your mouth against his ear, a weak giggle moaning free. "Beg me."

His hand squeezed around yours. "Please," he growled, teeth grinding as his hips unintentionally bucked upwards off the marble floor into your softer touch.

Connor's hand careened over your thigh. He pressed his calloused fingers over your clit, rocking tight circles, judging how well he was doing by your reactions. If you moaned and shivered, he'd repeat the same speed.

Altair stuttered, the crown of his head banging into the marble, "Pl-please!"

With each slapping thrust from Connor you squeezed Altaïr in time, following the fervent cadence as best you could manage. There was too much pleasure, your mind growing dizzy and dazed. You tugged and massaged, watching the smallest details slip over Altair's lidded expression. His teeth were clenched tight, his jaw flexing, his desperate attempt to hold back any moans or gasps that threatened. He was ardent to remain composed.

Your thumb slipped over his silky tip, smearing the moisture that leaked free.

Altair's lips parted, a languid sigh rolling passed. He whispered an incoherent "please" as his eyes clenched shut.

Your hold on Altair slipped when Connor's next few thrusts lifted your knees off of the hard floor. Your hands just barely caught your weight. Altair helped support you, his hands curving along your ribcage. You reached a hand back, nails digging into Connor's thigh and with each slide of your nails his hips jerked erratically. Connor wrapped his arms around you, holding your firmly against him as he bowed his head between your shoulderblades. His body stilled, hot cum spilling into you, his breath moistening your skin.

After a few more ragged breaths, Connor lowered your boneless body onto Altair. He brushed back your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss onto your forehead before shakily getting to his feet. His legs pulsed beneath his weight as he stepped over into the waters of the bath.

"Arno," Altair whispered, his hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. "Fetch our clothes. I will take her to a bed."

You lazily looked out over the pool and saw both Ezio and Arno, their faces oh so incredibly pink. Arno gave a mindless nod before lifting himself out of the pool and shuffling towards the door. You sighed against Altair, his hold around you nothing but gentle and his touches soft caresses.

"Rest," he murmured into your ear. "I shall take you home."

You gave a pleased hum, allowing yourself to drift into sleep, your body languid from the post orgasmic bliss. You didn't open your eyes again until Altair was gathering you into his arms, carrying you towards the bathhouse doors and out into the chilly night air. He pressed you tighter against his chest when a shiver rippled through you.

His steps quickened until he marched through the front doors of the dormitory and up the various staircases towards the upper floors. Altair laid you out onto his bed. He curled up behind you, wrapping himself and the thick covers over your trembling body. He whispered a few words in the Syrian language before you were lulled into sleep.

You awoke to tender kisses and ghosting fingertips that left a sensual trail down your arm. You lazily rolled over, wrapping your arms around Altair's neck. "Is it morning already?"

He hooked your leg over his waist. "Not quite," he cooed, another subtle kiss to your throat, a quick flick of his tongue.

You chuckled and squirmed around him, making sure your hips moved the most teasingly for him. "Then we have plenty of time."

Altair snapped hold of your waist, holding you firmly into place. "Afraid not."

You ran your fingers over the half moon indentations you'd clawed into his chest earlier, peeking up at Altair's analytical glower. His silent stare no longer unnerved you, not like it would have before. You shifted in the bed until you could pepper a few quick kisses against his lips. "Some other time then?"

Altair rolled out onto his back, chest rising from a deep, shuddering breath. "Go, your mentor will wonder where you are." He held loosely onto your hand as you crawled out of bed. Before he let go, before you could step too far away from him, he ordered sharply, "You will meet us next Thursday in the same room."

You gave him a quick glance and a meager smirk for a reply then confidently waltzed away.


	2. Guard Dog: Shay x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have quite the temper and nearly everyone knows it. But Shay always manages to make everything seem brighter and easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst and a little fluff :D

You ducked your head down, hoping no one caught sight of your busted lip or the swelling around your eye. Especially Shay, who was up at the wheel talking with Liam, smile wide upon his face as if there were no troubles that could ever reach him. You'd always admired that about him: his charismatic thrill for life, his constant unwavering optimism.

You clenched your fists and quickened your pace until you were tucked safely behind the doors of the captain's cabin. But you'd been in such a hurry and your anger was still so strong that the door slammed behind you, glass windows clattering from the immense force. Your back stiffened, heart skidding to a stop when you heard Shay's boot clomp down the stairs. He knew something was wrong now and you would have to somehow explain to him what happened.

You couldn't understand it, why you were so hot-tempered, so bloody thirsty. You didn't want to admit it but you had enjoyed the fight. You had enjoyed the surge of adrenaline and the quick, rapidity of a battle. But mostly, you had enjoyed defending Shay.

"Lass?" He slowly opened the door, stepping in and closing it just as cautiously.

You didn't give him the opportunity to look at your wounds. You worked your way across the room, busying yourself with the cluttered items along the tables and shelves. You nearly growled it, nearly allowed your shame to sob out of you, "I'm fine."

Shay gave a soft sigh. "Someone say something to hurt your feelings? You know not to pay any of the men any mind. They're all a superstitious lot of fools." He worked his way around the center table. "Did they call you a name again, is that it?"

"No!" You busied yourself in the corner, making sure Shay didn't catch a glimpse of your busted knuckles. "I said I'm fine. It's done and over with..." You bit your lip, eyes locked onto the worn parchment on the desk in front of you. Shay's ragged handwriting was scratched out onto the letter. It was to the Order, commenting on the mission's progress and an update about you. They didn't trust you. They thought you a hazard.

Shay settled a hand onto your shoulder. "If you're fine then why won't you look at me?" He leaned over a little, trying to peer past the messy curtain of your hair. "I told you already. It's alright if you cry. You know I'd never--"

You turned away from him, ready to move onto a different part of the room but Shay snatched hold of your elbow. He hooked his hand around your chin and forced you to look at him. You watched his expression distort from concern to anger, his glower burning into every scrape and bruise.

His thumb hovered over the deep cut on your lip. "Damn it, lass. You promised me."

You didn't have a valid argument. There weren't any excuses really. Save your anger. You were always angry. Or afraid. And fear tended to draw upon your basic instinct to fight. Shay had rescued you but you still felt like you were back in that hell, an obedient pet serving its master. So when Shay dragged you over to the bed to sit down, you didn't argue with him. You'd grown complacent with being obedient. It was so much easier. And Shay was kind to you. What reason did you have to argue with him?

He opened a drawer nearby and pulled out a small cloth, dipping it in the bowl of water on one of the tables. "What happened this time?"

It wasn't your first brawl and it wouldn't be your last. You glared into your knuckles, split open and bloody, your skin speckled with darkening red. You had swung the first punch but he'd been asking for it, begging for you to break his jaw. If you saw him again and he said the same words, you'd make sure to cut out his tongue.

When you didn't bother answering, Shay shoved a chair in front of you and sat down in it. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. Every time you brawl with them it just brings truth to what they're saying."

"They didn't insult me this time." You shoved away his hand, keeping him from dabbing clean your busted lip.

He grabbed your wrist but his grip was loose, giving you the opportunity to pull away from him if you wanted. "Listen to me, lass, whatever it was..."

You stood up sharply. "I don't need your help, Shay."

"No, you don't need it." Shay followed after you but he was always so respectful, always giving you just enough space and just enough time to process his words. He was always patient with you, even when you first met and nearly tried to kill him. Guard Dog. That's what the men began to call you.

Shay took a slow, steady step closer. "I'm still offering it to you either way."

You crossed your arms over your chest and curled your nails into your arms. It was a pathetic attempt to hold yourself together, to keep your emotions from spilling out. You didn't want to fall apart in front of Shay. Especially Shay. He held you in such high regard. He placed you on a pedestal and spoke highly of you in front of so many strangers. You wanted to be as good as he thought you were.

Shay took that moment to move to your side. He settled a soft, almost nonexistent, hand upon your arm. He dabbed the cloth against your lip again, cleaning up the rest of it before moving to the gash below your eye.

"It wasn't about me this time," you finally murmured. "It was about you."

He shook his head a bit. A silly and sloppy grin widened across his expression. "You mean to tell me you started a fight 'cause some sailor was griping about something? I'm a captain, lass. It's bound to happen." His smile slowly faded and his eyes darkened. It dawned upon him the seriousness of the matter. "You're not a guard dog."

"I know that!" You wanted to turn away from him again, to move to the other side of the room but you forced yourself to be still. "I know..."

"I'm trying to help you, lass." He tossed the red stained cloth onto the closest table. "I can't do that if you start brawls with everyone. Liam already thinks you're too dangerous. What do you think he'll do when he finds out about this?"

You tilted your head away from him, shoulders curving inwards. "I know."

"Promise me. This time I want you to mean it." Shay reached out towards you, to hold you, but he halted. He knew how uncomfortable you were with touching. "No more starting brawls."

Your hands shook as you took hold of his lapels. His entire body went rigid as you leaned against him, your head tucked up under his chin. It had been some time since you were hugged and you would certainly never allow anyone else to do it but Shay. His arms slowly, very loosely wrapped around you, giving you any opportunity to pull away.

"We'll be fine," assured Shay, his optimism easily returning.

Your eyes slipped closed. You could have fallen asleep at that moment, stayed there for the rest of time if it were possible. But Shay was needed at the helm. He had missions to attend to. He had obligations to the Order and you'd do everything in your power to make sure they were done. You owed him your life. You owed him everything.


	3. Atlas: Desmond x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond convinces you to go on a short trip with him through the Italian countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cute fluff ^-^

You'd just laid down for the night, your eyes still burning from the monitor screens. You'd been keeping track of Desmond's vitals, logging every scrap of information that you could. The Order had sent you to analyse the Animus' effect on the human body as well as any emotional trauma. The Bleeding Effect was only the tip of a very large iceberg and the Order was oh so incredibly interested about said iceberg.

Thus far, Desmond was reacting to the Animus just how you expected him to. It was a strenuous and stressful process, Ezio's life blurring into Desmond's, dreams blurring with reality. But you couldn't honestly say that Desmond was in any danger. You made sure to force him to take necessary breaks, to coax him into eating healthy and staying hydrated. It was to the point where Shaun would sarcastically gripe about you being the group's "mother hen".

It wasn't that you were trying to mother Desmond. You were just... worried. Really worried. There were times when Desmond was in the Animus for days and you'd argue with the rest of the group about his health. "He's not going to be very useful if he's dead." Mostly, you feared that the moment he returned to reality he wouldn't recognize you. Your chest would clench. Your breath would stop until Desmond grouched about a migraine or a stomach ache.

You had grown to care for him. You had grown to adore him. Love, even?

"Babe." Desmond pried open the bedroom door, poking his head into the dim and dusty excuse for a bedroom. "You still awake?"

You sat up, the worn out sleeping bag feeling like a thin blanket against the hard floor. "Des? Is everything alright?"

He opened the door up, wide grin on his lips as he took a quick glimpse down the hall. His voice dropped into a whisper, not wanting to alarm the others, "I wanted to show you something." He lifted up the set of keys to the group's van, that cheesy, mischievous grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes closed and couldn't help but bite away your smile. Of course he nabbed the keys when no one was looking. Typical, Des. "Lucy will kill us if she finds out."

He shrugged a shoulder then nudged his head towards the main room. "Then we better hurry... C'mon, it'll be quick. They won't even know."

You couldn't say 'no' to him. He'd been charming to you even on that first day when you showed up, all poking needles and intrusive questions. He only grinned, joked here and there, taking sly glances when he thought you weren't looking. You told him to quit letting Ezio be such a bad influence on him but he only grinned wider, mumbling something low in Italian that made your toes curl.

You grabbed your jacket and boots from the floor and followed Desmond through the safe house. He was quiet during each step and he even managed to keep the heavy front door from groaning. Once you were far enough away, you slipped on your boots and went with him to the van. He opened the passenger door for you, motioning you to take a seat.

"Where exactly are we going?" You rose a brow, finally grasping that Desmond was actually going to drive you somewhere, that the two of you were leaving. "You do realize that the Templars are hunting you down, right?"

"So?" He tilted his head, sloppy half-smile on his lips, very kissable lips. You always managed to sneak a peek at them, wonder if they were soft as you they looked.

You shook your head at him and got into the passenger seat. You didn't say anything the whole drive through the cluttered city and into the countryside. Desmond finally pulled off onto a weathered and gravelly road, parking the van into the grass. You looked at him for answers but he wasn't going to give you any. He just stepped out, tossing the keys into the air before stuffing them into his jeans pocket.

"Almost there." He tossed a thumb towards the treeline, another hand motioning you to join him. And you did, of course. You let him take you through the small woods and up the slope of a small hill until you were on the edge of a cliff, looking out over the vast landscape of Italy. It would have been a beautiful sight during the day. But at night it held its own secret beauty that very few would get to see, pale moonlight spilling out over the land, shadows intermingling with moonbeams.

But it was the stars that truly stole the show. They were speckled and dusted, the Milky Way stretched wide across the heavens. You drew in your bottom lip, your feet slowing to a shuffle as you admired the magnificent location. He had brought you all the way out here, pulled you away from the safe house and the never ending worries that plagued you.

Desmond sat down in the grass, draping his arms over his knees. "It's good here."

You chuckled softly. "Good? I'd say... great." You slowly sat down next to him, your eyes still trying to take in all of the details.

He took down a sharp breath which snapped hold of your attention. He must have seen your glower because he slowly began to mutter, "I'm scared. I don't think..." Desmond slammed his palms flat into the earth. "How the hell am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to help them? I'm just some bartender. I'm just... some stupid kid." His hands flew up to his face and you had just manage to catch a glimpse of glistening tears. "Damn it."

"Des, it's okay." You rolled up onto your knees. You reached out and curled your fingers around his wrists. "It's okay if you need to cry. You have this huge burden on your shoulders right now and... not even Atlas could withhold all of the crap the Order has thrown on you."

He rubbed his palm over his eyes then allowed you to pulled them away from his face. "I'm sorry... I brought you here to..." He shook his head, his smile weakly trying to return. "I wanted to have a nice happy moment and now I've ruined it."

You tilted your head away, face burning harshly under the heat of a blush. You knew how much you cared about him but you never truly knew if his flirting had been all that serious. Here and now, perhaps, it could be confirmed that he felt the same way.

You took hold of his hands and weaved your fingers with his, delighting in the small and minor touch. "You didn't ruin anything, Des." You brought his knuckles to your mouth, placing soft kisses onto them. You looked up to see his eyes just as admirably gazing. He licked his lips, perhaps to say something or perhaps to ready himself to lean forward for the kiss. But you didn't give him time. You hurried forward and pressed your mouth against his, eyes slipping closed and lips soft with uncertainty.

Desmond's body quivered, his hands shaking and his lips trembling even after you pulled away from the chaste first kiss. His eyes remained closed for another moment as he released the breath he'd been holding. The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, a sigh chuckling free.

Your nerves were still rattled but the fear of rejection was long gone. You sat down a little closer to him, your hip with his, your head back against his chest. "This was a lovely idea, Des. Thank you."

He didn't reply. He didn't have to. His arms sliding around you was answer enough.


	4. Pillow Fort Preference

**Ezio** has taken control of the kitchen, only providing sustenance to those who bring goods to trade with. The pantry and freezers are the most desired location in the entire house, nearly everyone seeking out the salty and sweet snacks.

**Altair** has used his location in the living room as the perfect spot to bombard anyone trying to get into the kitchen with a sea of pillows. No one can get to the kitchens anymore without first paying homage to him.

**Edward, Ade, and Mary Read** have control over the various bedrooms, attacking anyone who tries to use the bathroom in the hallway, which means no one can use the bathroom on the second floor without first offering up things they desire.

**Jacob and Evie** have control of the staircase, defending against both the upper floor and the second floor. People from upstairs can only get through if they have some sort of offering and people downstairs have to provide amenities like food and drinks.

**Haytham, Shay, Lee**  have control over the den. They spend most of their time relaxing, enjoying the minor stash of wine and cognac that they had horded before the whole pillow war broke out. Haytham mostly uses this time to catch up on his reading, of course. Shay runs a messenger network, helping different groups peacefully contact one another.

**Arno and Elise** are in control of the cellar/basement, providing people upstairs with alcohol. Because Edward needs his fix and eventually the Templars ran out. Ezio, of course, requires some for his latest recipe, offering up a plate in exchange for the expensive wine.

**Connor, Achilles, and Aveline** have the attic and every rooftop, attacking anyone who tries to sneak out of the house from above. The attic also has a strange supply of extra blankets and pillows that the other floors end up trading for.

**Desmond, Shaun, and Rebecca** took control of the family room and all of the technology inside (TV, Computer, phone chargers). They set up a ‘no violence’ zone where everyone must relinquish their pillows before entering. Shaun secretly trades a charging cord for yogurts from the kitchen.


	5. Home: Connor Kenway x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick drabble using the words: dazzling, art, home, and season :D

It had been Terry and Godfrey’s idea, a need to celebrate the small things in life. And of course, it was that time of year, the seasons were changing and the harvest was being reaped. But the moment you heard them discussing it, you had to help coordinate the event, convincing Connor and Achilles to help you. You’d never participated in an All Hallow’s Eve celebration but that certainly didn’t stop you from being eager. You nearly leapt out of the carriage while it was still moving, Connor jolting the horses to a stop in front of the inn when you threw open the door.

You jumped down, throwing a wide smile up at his fading scowl. “If we don’t hurry the guests will arrive and nothing will be set up.”

Connor shook his head, still somewhat annoyed about your recklessness. “It won’t matter much. Not if you break your leg.”

Achilles gave a long sigh, stiffly stepping out of the carriage. “Well, we’re here.” He groaned, stretching out his spine a bit. “Can’t say Connor’s driving has improved any.”

Connor tilted his head, brows lowering over his eyes.

You bounced off towards the inn, avoiding whatever squabble that was about to happen between the two of them. Ellen was already inside, sewing together dolls for the children. Oliver and Corrine were rolling large barrels filled with their newest concoction, some form of pumpkin ale. You joined Warren and Prudence, helping them spread out the delicious meals they had made from this year’s harvest.

You energetically helped decorate everything in sight, leaving nothing untouched, until the entirety of the inn was a work of art. You even rushed over to help Oliver in pouring mugs for the arriving guest, hardly missing a beat when Myriam called you over to help out with the apple bobbing.

You hardly realized how busy you had been until Connor hooked an arm around your waist, leading you over towards the warmth of the fire, the smoky aroma of burning wood as it crackled and popped. “I thought perhaps you would need a drink.” He held out the small tin mug, allowing you take it from him before softly stating, “Everything looks…”

“Dazzling,” Ellen’s daughter added abruptly before skipping off towards the apple bobbing.

You sipped on the slightly sweet ale, feeling it warm you just as easily as the fireplace. “I want everyone to feel… at home.”

Connor gave a hum of approval, leaning closer to you. And you took that opportunity to lean your smaller frame into his larger size, relishing in the security that his arm around you provided. “I certainly… feel at home.”


	6. Paintball: Modern Team

Modern Team x Reader

It was the longest game of paintball you'd ever played and you weren't even sure if the others realized that it was still just a game. Of course they took it too seriously. You agreed to play paintball with a bunch of Assassins and Desmond, worst of all, relived the genetic memories of his highly trained ancestors.

Desmond was one of the quietest, sneaking around and climbing up on top of everything he saw. He would scale onto the highest thing, whether it was a wall or a tree, and he would crouch down until completely hidden. The moment someone passed by he’d tag them and slip out of sight.

Shaun was a strategist, using the course's set up to corral the others together until they were more focused on each other rather than Shaun. Then, when they forgot all about him, he'd circle around and tag them rather haughtily, boasting about his skills while he jetted off across the field into hiding.

Rebecca was the worst of them. She was a fierce competitor and her speed was beyond imagining. She would run behind an object and completely show up on the other side her target. She would shout out a loud war cry during a combat roll, precisely tagging the person before rolling out of sight again.

And by target, it was mostly you. You were losing. Badly. And you decided to bunker down into one of the broken down shacks on the very edge of the course. You were exhausted, covered in mud and sweat, and you think you might have swallowed a few bugs. You huddled behind a box, your eyes locked on the door across from you and the window near your head.

You hadn't seen anyone since Shaun was shot from above, Desmond likely having posted himself on the roof. It was dead silent now, not a single pop sounding in the distance. It was getting darker outside, a sunset of orange and pink hues, when you heard Rebecca's laughter. You lifted up onto your knees, peering out the small window.

"Jeez, Becca," rasped Shaun as he rubbed the paint off of his face. "Better aim, next time, won't you?"

“Dude.” Rebecca grinned all too pleased with herself. "What makes you think I missed? Besides, should’ve worn your mask."

“I lost it,” excused Shaun.

Desmond chuckled, focused on unbuckling his chest armor. "Sucks for you, man."

"Oh, yeah, he thinks he's top dog, is that it?" Shaun shot off a round at Desmond's leg. "Another to add to your collection."

"What the hell." Desmond shot him a fierce glare but Rebecca's laughter broke the tension between them.

You poked your head out the window, nearly sighing that it was all over. "Does this mean we can go home now?" You got up onto your feet and walked through the cramp shack to where they stood waiting. "I'm really hungry."

All three of them looked about, finally finding your hiding place before grinning and laughing. You rolled your eyes, dreading to see later on what you looked like.

"Let's pick up a pizza," Rebecca chimed in, hurrying her way over to you. “I’m starved.”

Shaun lifted his hand, adding rather happily, "And a few beers."

Desmond made it to your side, dropping his hand onto your hair and roughing it up even worse. "We gotta do this again next weekend."

You nearly groaned, your body cringing. "Or, maybe, just popcorn and a movie."

Shaun and Rebecca exchanged glances, both of them blurting, "Paintball."

“Definitely, paintball again.” Desmond patted your back. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you trained.”

You nearly crumpled to your knees. You didn’t want to think about what that training was going to involve.


	7. Downpour: Edward Kenway x Reader

Edward had kept his eyes on you all evening, the twitch of a smirk every time you looked over and caught him leering. That look alone was enough to give you shivers, to cause your heart to leap. It was an innocent look, an underlying mischief that would every now and then spark along the edges of his expression. You were slowly working your way through the room towards the back door, stopping to chat in order to make your escape a little less noticeable by the crew.

You finally slipped outside, closing it in a quiet hush. You leaned against the wall behind the door, grinning eagerly to spend some time alone with him. You readied yourself when it began to slowly pry open. Edward stepped out, his attention firmly on the door as it closed, making sure no one had followed.

You more than happily pounced, leaping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck. "Any last words, Captain Kenway?"

Edward groaned then chuckled, staggering but easily supporting your weight. "You planning on robbing me, lass?"

You pressed your mouth over his ear. "I certainly am. Perhaps, I could be persuaded otherwise. You look like... a man with many uses."

His hands reached back, feeling along your thighs and tugging them until your center pressed firmly against his spine. "I've numerous talents, aye."

Your fingers traced the hem of his jacket, tugging across each button and sliding downwards along the muscles of his stomach. "I'll need a demonstration, then, Captain."

Edward's laugh was light hearted, enough to make your heart swoon. "You'll have to relinquish me first, lass."

"For now, I will. Can't promise about later on during your... demonstration." You let go of your hold on him, dropping down onto your feet just as Edward was turning on his heel.

He grabbed hold of your hand, tugging you forward and hooking an arm around your waist. "I've a fine spot in mind for that demonstration." He guided you away from the tavern and through the alley, arm loosely around your back and fingers flittering across your hipbone, sneaking under your jacket and blouse.

You leaned into his warmth, the Caribbean night feeling a rather bit chilly compared to the sun's assault earlier that day. In fact, as you glanced about the sky, it was looking rather dark outside. You couldn't see a single star and there was barely the faintest of light from the moon. That's when you began to feel the first few droplets, a lukewarm sprinkle of rain kissed along your cheeks.

Edward muttered under his breath, casting his eyes upwards as if he could somehow see where the rain was coming from. "Our beach escapade might have be put on hold, love."

"Awe, what a shame." You playfully pushed your shoulder into him, unable to resist teasing him. "I never did like getting sand in my clothes, anyway."

"Ship, then?" He raised a wry brow and before you had the opportunity to reply, the rain fell in a sudden burst, soaking your hair and clothes. Edward laughed, mouth wide in shock as the cold water drenched the both of you. He laced his fingers with yours and ran towards the closest shelter. He pulled you beneath a rickety wooden awning, running fingers through the messy mop of blonde hair.

You couldn't help but giggle, reaching up and smoothing away the droplets that clung to his brow. You batted your eyes, rain dripping from your lashes. "Well, that was... unexpected." You licked your lips, tasting the freshness of the water.

"Like quite a few things in life." Edward's eyes softened, his hand sliding around your waist until his arms held you. He leaned forward, voice a soft whisper as if he were sharing an important secret, "I love you."

You ducked your head away, a blush heating up your skin where the rain had cooled it. "Edward..."

"I know you don't like hearing it, love, but I do." He encased you, head dipping down to press his mouth to your forehead.

"It's not that I don't like it..." You were just never quite used to hearing it directed towards you.

His voice was huskier, barely audible as he pressed his lips to your skin, "I love you."

You bit your lip before softly muttering, "And I love you."


	8. Baited: Arno Dorian x Reader

They had taken you from the Cafe late last night, burlap sack over your head and coarse ropes roughly wrapped around your wrists. No one had said a word to you and you'd been too frightened to speak up. You already knew everything anyway. You knew why they had taken you. Arno had explained it to you weeks ago that something like this would happen if you stayed with him. You hadn't been scared then. You thought you were stronger than that, eager to stay with him and eager to face whatever challenges would arise. It had almost been like a silent challenge to yourself: stay with the one you love despite the dangers.

So, when the Templars came and kidnapped you, it wasn't all that surprising. You simply kept silent and hoped that Arno would eventually seek you out. You were no use to them dead. They needed you alive if it meant baiting Arno into coming. They wanted revenge for something that happened a month ago, some sort of explosion that cost them thousands. You weren't entirely sure, their words muffled by distance.

The heavy metal door to the room shoved open, groaning and whining, boots clomping hard into the stone floor. Rough fingers wrapped around your elbow, jerking you up onto your feet and hauling you forward.

You couldn't see anything, your shoes scuffing and nearly tripping you, the cold draft in the building chilling you down to the marrow. You stumbled forward when a hard hand hit your back, shoving you out into the harsh wintry winds that seeped past your layers of clothes.

You tripped down onto your knees, just barely able to keep your shoulder from cracking against the ground. "My boyfriend won't stand for this," you muttered it, hoping to give yourself enough confidence to keep back the tears.

He scoffed, the roll of a quick chuckle. "We're counting on it, sweetheart."

You confirmed that they were using you as bait, clenching your hands into tight fists. "You won't catch him easily."

"You've no idea what you got yourself into." The musky sack was snatched off of your head and you took down a sharp, frigid breath. Your eyes fluttered, blurry and adjusting to the faint light of the moon. He squatted down in front of you, jagged scars snaking every which way along his face and neck. "Your boyfriend's a murder, sweetheart. Did this to my face, he did."

You clenched your teeth, firstly because you were angry and secondly because it was freezing outside and you didn't want you teeth to clatter. You were in a graveyard, piles of bones and the moist, earthy smell of death bit your nose.

"So." He leaned forward, hot breath searing across your face. "Where is your scary boyfriend, now?"

There was a quick and sharp cry of pain. Your attention jolted towards the sound, finding one of the Templars on his knees. A rope, pulled taut, was jutting out of his chest and leading upwards towards one of the mausoleums nearby. He was just a shadow, hood pulled up over his head, but you knew it was Arno. It had to be him.

"Men!" He shouted, jumping up onto his feet and snagging hold of his large poleaxe that had been leaning against one of the trees. "Take out the Assassin!"

Arno stepped forward slowly, his boots hitting the edge of the roof when he jerked the rope free of its victim. When no one came at the command, your captor hesitated. Arno reached back and with a flick of his wrist the rope dart was flung forward. The Templar had predicted the attack, his poleaxe swinging outwards and clanging down onto the dart. He hadn't, however, realized it was a distraction. Arno took the leap off the mausoleum just as the Templar was lifting his gaze from the dart, having no time to defend himself. The blade pierced quick and deep, barely a sound leaving the man's throat.

You sighed, your body slumping. "Arno."

He stepped over the dying man, hidden blade slinking back into his sleeve. "I thought we agreed to be exclusive?" He kneeled down, smile wide upon his lips. "And here I find you in a graveyard, partying with other men?"

You laughed, deciding you preferred laughter over crying. "Arno. Shut up and untie me."

"I don't know..." He leaned forward, voice growing soft as he spoke against your ear. "I think I like seeing you bound up." His hands slid across your arms, following them behind your back to the coarse ropes. "I might just have to use this to my advantage."

You chuckled but it quickly got caught in your throat, tears brimming your eyes. You murmured lowly, untrusting in your own voice, "I was so scared."

"You're safe now." The ropes tugged and fell away, your arms falling bonelessly at your side. "I promise you. Come. Let's get you home." He helped you up onto your feet, arm curled around you when your legs weakened beneath your weight. "Can you stand?"

"I'm alright." You forced yourself to walk forward. You didn't want Arno to feel guilty about what happened. And you knew that he would be. His jokes couldn't hide it forever. "I just need a warm drink, is all."

"Oh, a warm drink and a warm bed." He grinned, waltzing with you awkwardly through the graveyard and out onto the trashed cobblestone streets. "With some warm company?"

You melted against him, delighted that he had arrived when he did. "Yes, please."


	9. For You, I Will: Modern!Arno x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take Arno to one of your favorite restaurants.

"Sushi?" Arno raised his brow and halted mid-step as you came upon the restaurant. He looked over at you, a bit weary at the idea. "Can't we just eat at that Chinese place like we usually do?"

It was a place you'd been to many times before but never quite with Arno. There were a lot of places you hadn't been with him yet and this one was on the list. It was a secret list of places you wanted to share with him but you knew if you told him he'd somewhat scoff at the idea.

"No. I want sushi and..." You rolled your eyes, grabbing and tugging at his wrist. You groaned when Arno didn't budge from his spot on the sidewalk. "Come on, please. You eat... snails. You can certainly try this." You were having sushi tonight, whether he came or not.

"I do not." Arno snorted, breathy at the suggestion. "Just because I'm French... And it's called escargot. And not everyone eats it."

You let go of his wrist regretfully, knowing you weren't strong enough to haul him in there. "How is sushi any different than all of the other weird stuff you eat. Besides, not all of it's raw."

His mouth fell open, mouthing as he searched for words. "What weird stuff have I eaten?"

Your tone darkened. "Really?"

He rose an inquisitive brow, daring you to come up with something.

You folded your arms over your chest, just as determined as he was. "You eat a like ten year old."

He gasped, his mouth falling open, the charming way that he usually did when he knew you were right but didn't quite want to admit it. "I do not?"

"You put Cheetos in your steamed broccoli last night. And you put M&Ms on your pizza the night before." You pulled your victorious and childish grin between your teeth.

Arno pressed a hand over his wide smile, ducking his head away. "Yeah..."

You nearly leaned into him, almost placed your hands on his chest but you resisted. The two of you weren't officially dating and Arno never made any comments towards anything other than being friends. "Can we get sushi now?"

Arno lost all seriousness in his tone. "Fine, fine." He finally began to shuffle forward, still a little weary of having to try something new. "For you, mon amie, I will do this."

"I have just the combination you might like." You smiled widely, unable to stop yourself from blushing as you hurried ahead of him. He knew how easy it was to make you blush and 'mon amie' was the easiest. You knew it didn't mean anything special but hearing it come from Arno always made you overly cheerful. It was the accent, the way it rolled off of his tongue.

He slipped his hand with yours, lacing fingers before you could get too far.

You had to keep yourself from gasping. You took in the heat of his touch, nearly melting to have Arno make such a sweet gesture. He was usually very resistant to touches. It had taken you months just to break down his walls and get him to spend time with you. Convincing him to go out to eat had been the hardest but he eventually gave in. Life hadn't been the kindest to him and you knew that every day was a baby step.

So, when you finally got a table, you nervously took a seat in one of the chairs. Arno took the one next to you which made you even more anxious. Used to, he'd sit on the other side and avoided you like the plague.

You ordered the special with the widest variety. You wanted him to get the chance to taste different ones while also keeping it very simple. Nothing raw, not this time. You didn't want to scare him away from your favorite sushi joint.

Arno picked up his chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers.

You pushed him playfully with your shoulder. "Nervous?"

"No." He pushed back just as playfully. "How long have we known each other?"

You folded your arms, leaning them down onto the table. "I don't know. A few years?"

"We didn't talk the first year..." He tilted his head, the barest of smiles visible and his tones was hinting. "How long have we been friends, then?"

"Arno." You narrowed your eyes, snapping the chopsticks away from him so that he'd focus on you rather than them. "We're going to have a good time eating sushi. Then we'll buy a new movie and go back to my place and watch it."

His accent thickened as tried his hardest not to laugh, "Why always your place?"

You rolled your eyes. He knew exactly why. "Your place looks like a dungeon."

He leaned closer, chin tilted away but those dark brown eyes captivating. "We've been friends for a long time..."

Your face was burning, the restaurant suddenly incredibly warm, sweltering even. You voice was soft, barely even audible to your own ears. "Arno..."

"You helped me through a lot, you know..." His eyes swept away, down to the chopsticks clenched in your hands. "You never ask for anything."

"We're friends," you laughed nervously, breathily as sweat trickled down your back. "That's what friends do."

"Best friends," he corrected, licking his lips and swallowing his pulse. His gaze carefully moved upwards until meeting with your own.

The plates clattered onto the table, jolting you away from the intensity that was Arno Dorian. You stared wide eyed at the waitress as she focused on handing out the food and drinks. She finally looked up, smiling. “Here you are.”

“Th-thank you.” You took down a slow breath, not daring to glance at him as the waitress bounded off to the other tables. You pulled the plates closer, eager to talk to him about each roll. “Which one first, then?”

"Mon amie," he whispered, leaning close until the softness of his lips pressed against your cheek. It was a quick kiss, over before it even happened.

You looked at him, eyes bobbing between his eyes and his mouth. Had he kissed you? No, surely not. It was Arno. Broody, determined to be alone until you dragged him somewhere, Arno.

His lips slid into a minor smile, attention focused on the closest plate between to the two of you. "That one first." He gathered a set of chopsticks, positioning them in his hand and gathering hold the small sushi roll with them.

You contained your scream, your squeal of delight. "That one has crab in it." You took hold of your own chopsticks as well but Arno stopped you.

"Here. You first." His chopsticks offered you the first bite. "In case it's awful..."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. "Of course." You took the large bite into your mouth, the crisp of cucumber and the sweetness of avocado and crab. You smiled at him victoriously, swallowing the delicious goodness. "Hah. Now you have to try it."

Arno grinned, the largest you'd ever seen on his lips. His tone was soft, your heart nearly swooning, "For you, I will."


	10. Movie Night: Modern!Arno x Reader (Cont)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arno and you have a night in after eating sushi together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so addicted to Arno right now and I don't even know

Arno had his hands shoved into his jacket pocket, your arm hooked with his as you both wandered through the store. Eventually you made your way towards the electronics section and its countless movies. Most of them you'd already seen with him. You thought about getting an online subscription but you never got around to doing it. With the amount of movies that cluttered your place, perhaps it was about time.

You unlinked your arm from his, stepping towards one of the shelves. "What was that one movie? The futuristic one?"

"It's not out yet." Arno lingered behind, shoes scuffing just a bit. "We could head back to my place. It's closer."

You gave him a quick look, hardly expecting the statement. "Your place?"

He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. "Why not?"

You chuckled under your breath, not wanting to hurt his feelings too bad. "We kind of talked about this."

Arno let his fingers slide over the edge of the dvd cases, busying himself with something else. "We didn't really talk about it..."

You couldn't understand why he was suddenly so concerned about his apartment. He had always been happy to go to your place. Honestly, it was comfier. "Yours is dark and gloomy. Mine is happy, cheery." Arno's apartment was cluttered with dark wood furniture and mementos he'd brought over from France with him. Everything in his home from the furniture to the carpet was in some way old and dark and depressing. It looked more like an office or a museum than a place to live.

"Then..." He walked around you, checking out the other movies ahead, somewhat stepping in your way. "I'll open the curtains."

You embarrassingly snorted. You couldn't help it, pressing your hands into your burning face. "It's night, Arno. It's dark outside. How would that even help?" He was trying so hard and you didn't know why. "Why bring this up all of a sudden?"

He stepped back from the movies and faced you, nearly groaning. He was hesitant, reluctant to say it, "I... got a new couch."

"A new couch?" Your brows rose up in shock. Arno hadn't bought anything new since you'd met him. He refused to change his apartment, determined to keep it in the same darkened state. You tried to buy him a houseplant one time and that... didn't go over well with him. It ended up on his desk at work.

"Yeah." He tossed his head a bit. "A couch..."

"What did you do with the old one?" You swallowed your next laugh, knowing that your teasing was becoming too much. You reached out and tugged onto the hem of his jacket, stepping just a little closer to him. You couldn't resist. "I'm just kidding."

Arno slid his hand from his jacket pocket to fidget with your fingers. "It's white. It brightens up the place."

You gasped and started to laugh until your stomach ached. You tried to stop, straightening up and placing your hand on his chest. "Oh my god, Arno. Why did you get a white one?"

His mouth hung wide, smile on the corners, the cute way that he usually did when he was a bit flustered. "Because you're always saying my apartment is dark."

"Arno, you dork." You chuckled a bit more until your face ached. "You are the messiest person I know. I give that couch by the end of the week until it's ruined."

He took down a sharp breath, slightly insulted. "I'm not messy."

"Oh, whatever." You tried to sound as serious as possible when you retorted, "Need I remind you of my rug? My favorite rug?" But being serious with Arno was always a challenge.

You could hardly believe that the stodgy Arno had taken your advice about brightening up his place. The fact that he bought a couch, white in stark contrast to his apartment, was even more shocking.

He licked his lips. "It wasn't that--"

"You dropped chocolate ice cream on it the first time you were over at my apartment." You glowered up at him through your lashes, daring him to make a good excuse.

"I did you a favor..." He dipped his head away, gazing down at the lower shelf of movies. It had been nearly a year but he still blushed bright red every time you brought it up. "That rug was ugly."

You playfully shoved him. "Jerk. That rug survived my college years with me. It was gorgeous, thank you."

Arno pulled a movie from the shelf and held it up. It was one of the movies the both of you had been talking about earlier that day. "My place this time."

"Okay." You rolled your eyes shut. "I need to see this glorious white couch before you ruin it, anyway."

He pressed a hand into his smile, fingers rubbing across his dark stubble while sauntering off towards the front of the store. "Should we get some candy?"

"Of course. Get me the messiest kind they have..." You grinned haughtily, unable to resist picking on him. "So I can get it on your new couch."

He tossed you an annoyed glance over his shoulder. His arm reached back and hooked around your neck. "Ruin my couch, mon amie, and I'll accidentally 'break' that ugly vase near your TV."

You leaned against him, hand firm against his chest, reveling in the brief contact with him. Arno was so warm and he smelled richly of espresso and peppery spices. Whatever snarky remark you had in mind was forgotten. You were regretful to let go, Arno's hand rubbing across your back as you reached the counter. He paid for the movie and a few boxes of candy, the same ones you both usually bought.

It only took ten minutes at most to get to his apartment. He silently led the way as you talked about work, the same office shenanigans that usually occurred. He pulled his set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the apartment, letting you walk into the place. It did look "brighter" and the couch certainly stood out amongst the rest of his stuff. It still smelled the same though, like old books and cologne.

You tossed the shopping bag onto the coffee table and admired the large, squishy white couch. "You're right... it does brighten the place up a bit."

"I think I'm going to order a pizza." Arno sauntered into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing some drinks.

"Pizza?" You fell back onto the couch, letting it absorb your weight. "We just ate sushi."

"And I'm still hungry." He set the sodas onto coasters before leaving to pop the new movie in. "What kind do you want?"

"I'm not even hungry." You laughed, tossing your feet up onto the coffee table and slouching down into the couch. "How can you eat again? That sushi filled me up until tomorrow."

"I'll grab the M&Ms." He hurried off into the kitchen, phone nestled in his hand as he searched for the pizza place. It was quiet for a while, Arno likely entering all of his information onto the website. You heard a cabinet slam and Arno slyly, "You'll have to try it."

"Not happening." You huffed, hardly believing he would even suggest it. "The Cheetos thing I can kind of get. I mean, broccoli and cheese sure. Cheetos are cheesy. But how in any way is chocolate a good combination on a pizza."

"Chocolate is good on everything." Arno finally returned, sitting down and tossing the M&M bag aside. "Hey, no." He pulled your feet off the table, nestling your legs into his lap and turning your body around on the couch. "Don't put your feet on my table."

"What?" You eyed him, watching his expression slip into playful annoyance. You scooted until you were comfortable, legs with Arno and head resting on the couch's arm. "Really?"

He excused with all seriousness, "I got that coffee table in Paris."

"Oh. Pardon me." You sat up, haughty and arrogant. "I didn't realize how precious your Parisian coffee table was. Should I be concerned about your floor? Did you have someone craft that in France, too?"

Arno chuckled, lips parted as he reached over for the remote. "You're trying the pizza. I tried your sushi."

You groaned, resting your bent knees against his chest. "Whatever. I'll try your gross pizza."

Arno's hand massaged along your knee, his eyes resting on the TV as the beginning of the movie started. It was hard to focus on the show with him touching you, even a small and subtle touch, as innocent as it was. Eventually his attention wandered, his eyes sweeping over your figure and towards your face.

You started to chuckle, tossing him a glance. "What now?"

His brows arched, eyes wavering with tears. "I'm sorry..." He focused on the fabric of your jeans where his fingers fidgeted with your knee.

"No." You sat up sharply and grabbed the remote off of the couch. You paused the movie so neither of you would miss it. "Tonight is movie night. We made a deal. Movie night is happy night. No sad stuff."

Arno opened his mouth to speak but you placed your fingers over his lips. He tilted his head, trying to avoid your challenging hand. Finally, he tenderly took hold of yours. "Please, mon amie. Let me say something."

"No, it's movie night." You leaned closer, determined to make him forget about whatever it was plaguing him. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Please." His other hand rubbed along your leg, eyes locked with yours. He was pleading, a kicked puppy needing to be consoled. And damn it if you weren't a sucker for his puppy eyes. And the way his hand kept caressing your thigh...

You sighed heavily and threw yourself back into the couch. You snatched up your candy, knowing you'd need it during the long apology. This wasn't the first time Arno ever apologized. During the year the two of you had been friends, he had done quite a few things to himself. Drinking, was the biggest one. And you couldn't blame him. Elise.... She'd been the love of his life. Her death had ruined him. It had taken you years to help him get this far.

"You saved me," he whispered it, almost too afraid to say it louder in case his voice cracked. "You've been there for me all this time and... What I'm saying is that..."

"That's what friends do." You tried not to sigh, tried not to kick him and make some witty retort about it all. Of course you helped him. You'd do it all over again if you were given the choice.

"I know that." Arno grew quiet as he searched for better words. You were just dropping a piece of candy into your mouth when he said it. His voice was gentle but firm, "I love you."

You gasped sharply, sucking down the candy too quickly and choking on it. You sat up coughing and eyes watering, head buried into the crook of your arm.

Arno gripped comfortingly onto your shoulders. "Are you alright?"

You nodded your head, more embarrassed than anything. You cleared your throat, regaining your composure. "Yeah, I'm fine." You dropped your arm and took down a few slow breaths. Arno had said he loved you? Maybe you misheard it?

He pressed his hand against your cheek, waiting until you looked at him. His lips tugged until a laugh bursted free, nervousness overwhelming him. Arno chuckled until it was contagious, your own laugh pressed into your trembling hand. When his laughter died he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and kneaded a hand along your calf, squeezing in tender motions. "Mon amie..."

You leaned forward. Before Arno could regret his words or make some excuse, before he could take it back, you gathered his head into your hands and pressed your mouth over his. Arno stilled with fear at first. Then, as if he'd been desperate to do it all night, his lips worked roughly against yours, prying them apart until his tongue could rove in quick strokes. The kiss left your lips tingling and your mouth coated in a subtle sweetness from the chocolate M&Ms.

You tilted your chin away and took down a quivering breath. You grinned, excitement bursting inside of your chest and heat searing your skin. "We have been friends for a long time..."

"We have been... but what about more?" His forehead pressed with yours, his breath warmly blowing across your skin. "Dating. You and me."

You laughed, trailing your hands across his shoulders to his neck. "Isn't that what we've sort of been doing?"

Arno was still a bit flustered, nervous and shaky. He laughed between breaths. "How many dates do you think we've been on?"

You settled your head against his neck, shifting most of your weight towards him until his arm could slide around your waist. "Oh, I don't know, two... Maybe a few hundred."

His arms tightened around you, pressing you against him as if he worried you might slip away. "I've wanted to tell you for a long time but..." He curled his fingers around your legs, pressing them into his lap. "You deserved someone stable. And I think I'm finally at a place in my life that I... might be good enough for you."

"Arno." Your fingers fumbled with the collar of his shirt. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure." His hand moved to your chin, taking the bone between his fingers as he peered down at your expression. "What about you?"

You slightly nodded, never taking your eyes off of his until the doorbell rang.

Arno pecked a quick kiss onto your lips. He slowly got up and hurried to the door. You were frozen in your seat, still processing what had happened. You didn't think Arno would ever feel this way. Honestly, you hadn't expected to fall in love with him either. It just sort of happened during the months you'd spent together.

He returned empty handed, sitting down and grabbing the remote to press play.

You rose a brow. "No chocolatey pizza tonight?"

"Later. Movie first?" He shifted against the couch, until he was curling up onto his side, small throw pillow squished beneath his head. "Lay down with me?" He held out his arm until you laid down and pressed your back against his chest.

You nestled against him, Arno's arm encased around you and his warmth a welcomed relief. "This really is a good couch."

Arno held you a bit tighter, moving until his body curled perfectly into yours. "I told you so."

You reached up and scraped your nail over the edge of the cushion. "Has a stain on it, though."

"Where?" Arno jolted up to see it for himself. You laughed, unable to resist teasing him, which drew a low growl from Arno. His mouth pressed firmly onto your ear. "I'll get you back soon enough."

You gasped, pretending that he had somehow insulted your honor. "That pizza is revenge enough, don't you think?"

Arno chuckled lightly, his head nuzzling beside yours and body somewhat sighing. "I love you."

"I love you, too." You laced your fingers with his, running your thumb over his rough palm. You watched the movie quietly, Arno placing a soft kiss onto your cheek every now and then just to make sure you were still there.


	11. The Good Kind: Shaun Hastings x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff after you take something precious that belongs to Shaun

The safe house was clear of everyone but him. He stayed behind to get some work done, muttering about how he was the only one whoever actually did any ‘real’ work. In all honesty, you knew it was because Shaun hated going to place with large crowds. Where as, Rebecca and Desmond thrived off of it.

You had busied yourself with a few chores while some of the data you retrieved for the order was being downloaded. You were just finishing up when you had found the freshly washed laundry sitting in the dryer. And it was still warm. And the warehouse was a bit cold… So, it seemed only right to borrow Shaun’s sweater since he wasn’t exactly in need of it.

You knew it would not only ruffle his feathers into being an adorable, infuriated mess but… Well, a part of you liked the idea of wearing his clothes. In fact, you reveled at it. But you’d need a proper plan in order to keep Shaun from taking it back from you.

You tossed your shirt into the washer and slipped into the over-sized sweater. God, it really was warm. It was no wonder Shaun wore it all of the time. It was also no wonder why the warehouse’s air conditioning was always on full blast.

You strolled through the building towards the common area, slowing your steps when you reached the entrance. “Hey, Shaun, has my stuff downloaded yet?”

Shaun had to do a double take he’d been so caught off guard. “Is that…” He clenched the papers in his hands before slapping them down onto the desk. “That. Is mine.”

“Sorry, is this your sweater?” You feigned innocence, glancing down at the soft gray fabric. You tugged at the hem of it, pulling it over your thighs, before flicking your attention back up to him. “I’ll give it back… eventually.”

It took Shaun a great deal of time to reply. Or blink for that matter. His ears began to prickle red under the heat of your attention, under the sweet but smoldering way you were looking at him. He finally regained his senses, remembering that he was upset with you. “That is my favorite sweater, thank you very much. Take it off.”

You flitted your gaze to the side, pretending to admire the wall’s texture. You weren’t putting in too much effort to explain the real situation. It would be more fun to embarrass him. “Shaun–”

“Now.” He threw a hand at you, towards your fingers as they tugged at the hem. “Unbelievable. Look. You’re stretching it. It’ll be completely ruined at this rate. Have you no respect for others things?”

You threw your weight onto your hips, somewhat twirling them back and forth to catch his attention. “But, Shaun–”

“No.” His eyes narrowed as he marched forward from his desk. “And what gives you the right to go around stealing other people’s clothes… Get your own. Can’t even leave laundry around without someone else mucking it up.” He held out his hand without an ounce of hesitation.

You rolled your eyes. “If you really want it back that badly…” You tried to press away the smirk as you pulled the sweater up and over your head, the cold air of the warehouse hitting your bare skin. You could hear distinctly Shaun suck down a sharp breath of air. You made sure your voice was a low whisper, “I tried to warn you.”

Shaun’s lips were parted but not because he was planning to say anything. He swallowed his pulse and licked his lips before finally meeting your eyes. “You… are evil.”

You tenderly pressed the sweater into his chest.

He reached up and strangled the fabric, entire body tensing and his face coloring in shades of pink. He was finding it incredibly difficult to keep his eyes on yours. “I suppose… it did look rather nice… on you.”

“Oh? So, it looks better on?” You tilted your head just enough to draw attention to your mouth. “Or off?” You looked down at your chest, knowing the action would cause him to do the same.

Shaun’s words were half-strangled as he spoke, “We are supposed to be working.”

“Oh, right.” You sashayed past him, being sure to put confidence in every step. “I’ll start with that last set of data they sent us.”

He nearly shouted it but his voice cracked under uncomfortable anxiety. “I can’t work with you half naked.” His steps quickened until he was all but running into you.

“I guess… you’ll just have to give me back your sweater.” You peered over your shoulder at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth.

He huffed, finally catching onto your real game. “Evil.”

You grinned rather pleased with yourself. “The good kind.”

He tossed the sweater at you and sauntered off back towards his desk like a child who had lost his toy. “I hope you’re satisfied. Ruining a perfectly good cashmere, if you weren’t aware.”

You shimmied back into the sweater and took down the subtle but lingering scent that Shaun had left behind after clinging onto it for dear life. You walked over to where he was, hands flat against the desk and shoulders hunched. You ducked down under his arm so that you might pull him into a gentle hug. “I’m sorry I stole your sweater.”

He stuttered, words barely audible, “Yes, well you bloody well better be.” His anger, what little was left, melted away as his hands slid across your back. “You do look rather nice in it.”

You pressed your mouth over his ear, hot breath tickling his skin, “Does this mean I get to wear them more often?”

Shaun only managed a moan of approval.


	12. 48 Hours: Desmond x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond's latest session in the Animus leaves you frazzled and annoyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Des deserved so much better... IM LOOKING AT YOU UBISOFT IM LOOKING AT YOU

You hadn’t spoken with Desmond in over forty-eight hours. It felt like longer, days or weeks, and despite your protests it didn’t seem like anyone was going to change it. He had been strapped down in the Animus, reliving another memory that you didn’t care about. You didn’t care about the past. You cared about that moment, the long and stressful moment that seemed to stretch itself thinner and thinner.

Desmond’s body began reacting to reality, small little impulses in his brain triggered his fingers to flinch. His brows dove downwards and his eyes clenched until he finally opened them, glancing languidly about. His attention settled on you, lips twitching into a smirk.

Rebecca ran her fingers over a few keys in quick easy strokes. “All done for the day.” She stood up and tossed you a sly glance before sneaking off down the hall. She had put up with your constant berating, your worried questions, and irritated sighs since early that morning when you had learned about Desmond’s two day quest.

“You’re a lovely sight to wake up to.” He groaned, stiffly sitting up in the Animus, his hand flying up to nurse his headache.

“Don’t get cute with me.” You rushed forward and hooked your arm around his back, helping him swing his legs over the side of the machine. “How could you agree to this without talking to me first?”

“You weren’t exactly here,” he chided.

Your voice nearly cracked but you forced yourself to steady it, “I haven’t seen you in days, Desmond. Days.”

He grinned while slipping his arms around your waist, holding you where you were. His hands felt large as they encased your back, moving in long smooth circles across the tense muscle. “Technically… I’m the one who hasn’t actually seen you in days…”

Your brows caved beneath worry. “Des.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, a soft and sweet sound, “Hey. I’m sorry... I missed you.”

“Never again.” You tried to stay resolute, determined to be angry about it but the way Des looked at you.

He had those gentle puppy eyes, the way his lips pouted… “Babe.” Desmond stood up, his arms tightening around you. He leaned forward, his breath tickling against your lips. “I’ve got a kiss with your name on it.”

You snorted and tried to playfully shove him away but Desmond pulled you closer. “Desmond Miles. If you ever--” Your words jumbled together, your mind unraveling as he peppered a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Des…” Your eyes slipped closed.

He brushed softer kisses over the bridge of your nose. “I’ve waited to do this for so long.”

You melted against him and stepped closer until your two bodies pressed towards one another, a magnetic and unrelenting force naturally drawn to be near one another. “I was… scared.”

“I know.” He settled his lips on your forehead, letting the peaceful moment ease over the both of you. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

“You better.” You craned your neck so that you could get a look at his expression but the courage in your words faded. He looked tired, the Animus having drained what mental energy he had. “I can’t lose you.”

His smile was weakened with exhaustion, sleep clinging to the corners of his eyes. “You’re not. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Come on. You need some sleep and so do I.” You tried to step back, to lead him towards the bedroom, but his arms were locked securely around you.

“Not yet. Please.” He pressed his forehead onto yours, those deep brown eyes gazing into yours. “I haven’t seen you in days, remember.”

You relented, eager to lean against him, to support each other. “A little longer then.”


	13. The Rescue: Jacob Frye x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been tasked with saving Jacob from the fire, rather literally

Hooves cracked against cobblestone as you spurred the horses faster. The carriage beneath you swerved, the wheel groaning and the beams creaking. You couldn’t slow down, not if you were going to reach Jacob in time. You pulled taut half of the reins until the carriage was making an impossibly sharp right turn down the street.

You could see the factory in the distance and Jacob running across the rooftop. The timing had to be precise, Evie had been very clear with you about it. Jacob hadn’t been listening so of course you paid extra attention. You slapped the reins, shouting over the roars of the speeding carriage, “Jacob! Jump!”

His grin widened, a wild spark in his eye and he quickened his pace and leapt the long distance to the back of the carriage. His hand just barely snagged the edge before his feet slid out from under him. He scurried onto the top of the moving vehicle before sliding rather agilely down into the seat next to you.

And thankfully he did so just in time because the factory exploded, the bloom of hot air swelling outwards, your body thrown against his and the horses screamed in protest, the reins slicing across the palm of your hand. The carriage had just narrowly escaped the blast but it was still in range for ricochet, bits of wood and metal spearing towards the closest object, including you and the horse closest to the blast. The horses sped up through the bursts of adrenaline and fear.

“That was exciting!” Jacob took the reins from you, guiding the horses’ unrelenting speed towards the large but empty main road. “I’ve never had so much fun. Did you see that explosion?”

“I’m sure half of England saw that explosion.” You leaned forward, shoulders hunching up around you. Your heart was still racing. It had been close, too close. If you hadn’t made it in time, he would have been too near to the blast to escape.

Jacob grinned over at you, tossing you a wink, “No need to stroke my ego, darling. Although, it doesn’t hurt.”

You huffed, a chuckle in the back of your throat. “Oh, I’m aware your ego needs no applause. You already think too highly of yourself, Frye.”

“Damn.” Jacob tugged at the reins, slowing the panting horses into a side alley. He snapped up your hand once the carriage settled into a calm. “Is that your blood?”

Your body was still trembling, nerves rattled as your hand quaked in his hold. “Must have happened during the explosion.”

His grasp on your hand softened, large and rough fingers nimbly turning your hand to better see the wound. He examined the thin, deep gash that curled over the side of your hand between your thumb and forefingers. “I should have taken better care–”

“Jacob.” You tried to jerk your hand away but he used his other hand to keep you from getting too far. “It’s not a big deal.”

He lifted your hand closer, his eyes rolling up to meet yours. “Here, let me kiss it better for you.” His gaze never wavered from yours as his mouth dipped down to the wound. His lips parted to let his tongue sweep across in one long stroke.

You flinched at the sharp pain but the way Jacob’s eyes were locked with yours… It was hard to want it to end. “Jacob…” Your face burned in stark contrast to the chilly autumn weather.

He lifted his mouth away, a cheeky grin all the more visible. “Better?”

You took down a shuddered breath and turned your attention to the horses.

He pressed a brief kiss onto your hand and set it in your lap. “You should be more careful next time.”

“You should blow up less buildings.” You rolled your eyes to peer over at him.

“What would be fun in that?” Jacob started the horses into a slow trot, a hand thrown out towards the high buildings above as if he were motioning to some grand architecture rather than the slums.

You melted back into the hard carriage but it wasn’t for very long.

Jacob wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you against his side. His hand caressed along your arm, squeezing tenderly every now and then. “I’m glad you were there for the rescue, love.”

You sighed, appreciative of the rich scents that clung to his jacket. “Always.”


	14. A Challenge: Altair Ibn-La'Ahad x Reader

Altaïr had fallen back rather clumsily onto the pillows. As clumsy as a well trained Master Assassin allowed himself to be. He melted against the cluster of soft cushions, nearly swallowed by them in fact. He groaned, trying to shift his weight into a better location, each of his movements hinting at how strained his muscles were from the long day.

You chuckled, ducking your head away in hopes that your hood obscured the grin.

“What?” His voice was sharp and precise but you had learned long ago that he always sounded as such, whether displeased or content. “What do you find so humorous?”

You lifted a shoulder before finally taking in the sight of him. “The great and almighty Altaïr…” The last mission had been exhausting, forcing the two of you to race from one end of the city to the next. And after all of the running and leaping, you had both been thrown into the midst of a skirmish. “You’re not tired are you? Should I fetch the doctor for that bruise? Perhaps I should ask Malik to boil you some herbal remedy.”

He tilted his head back, eyes peering out from beneath the rim of his hood. “I can handle my wounds without the help of a doctor.” He reached up and fiddled with the leather harness across his chest. “Can you say the same?” Altaïr sensually removed and tossed aside his constricting gear, pleased to be rid of it if only for a short time.

“What wounds?” You raised a challenging brow. “I received none.” You sashayed towards the gathered pillows, making sure each step was a confident as the next. “Can **you** say the same?”

Altaïr reached up and curled an arm above his head, looking as cocky as ever. “You believe you are better at fighting, is that it?”

“Believe?” You kneeled down onto a few pillows near him, shuffling a few into a makeshift bed. “I know I’m better at fighting.”

His fingertips moved to brush across the top of your hand. His voice was low, perhaps worried that eavesdropping ears might hear him, “I bet I’m better at cuddling than you.”

You laughed abruptly. You hadn’t expected to hear such words from him so it was not wonder why he whispered it so catuiously. But his arrogance… Yes, of course he made it a challenge. But you moved closer to him all the same, delighted to finally rest and to have an excuse to hold him. “You’re going to have to prove that to me, Master Assassin.”

“I have no qualms with such a task.” Altaïr eagerly snapped an arm up and around your back, pulling you forcefully against him.

You tsked and shook your head. “Poorly done, Master Assassin, poorly done.”

He huffed, lips pressed thin and turned his head away like a displeased child. "And you can do better?"

“Cuddling requires a gentler touch.” You slid your hands over the thin tunic, feeling the flex of muscles underneath.

His grip loosened. His hands along your back mirrored your movements, careening upwards to the taut muscles in your shoulders and neck. His fingers squeezed at the bundled tension, the knots that had formed during the arduous climb from building to building. He said it so softly that it stopped your breath to hear it, “I learn quickly.”

“Altaïr…” You moaned and tucked your head beneath his chin. You took down a delightful breath of sand and sweat, the faint scent of juniper and mint.

Deep in his throat, he chuckled briefly. His hands continued to work across your back, gentle kneading across muscle and bone until you were languid. “Who is better now?”

You pressed your smile into his neck. “I am.”

His hands steadied and his arms carefully encased you, as if he were trying to remember to be gentler. "Yes... You are."


	15. Adorably Cold: Haytham Kenway

Haytham exhaled and you watched his breath wisp through the air in soft grays. He tossed his head a bit, as if he were finally admitting the truth of the situation. “Well, I suppose we are walking from here on then.” He clasped his hands behind his back, prying his attention away from the thin wheel tracks along the snowy road.

You pursed your lips, only in an attempt to keep from smiling. “I did try to warn you about leaving the carriage out here unattended.”

He darted his eyes about the trees but not because he was annoyed, not particularly about what you had said. He was annoyed about the turn of events. The lead he had received turned up empty only after they had trudged through the woods in two feet of snow. And on top of it all, the carriage had been stolen. Right off the road.

Haytham was handling it rather well. Or rather, he was really good at pretending to handle it well. Haytham always was hard to read. But he wasn’t cursing and he hadn’t made any attempt to shout with irritation. He had only stared at the empty spot where the carriage had been left to wait, a blankness to his expression.

“No use standing around then.” You started to walk down the wide path, snow creaking beneath your boots. “I doubt they’ll bring it back to us when they’re done.”

Haytham strolled behind. He never bothered catching up with you despite your slow pace. Perhaps he was brooding and didn’t quite want you to see.

“I think I saw an inn on the way here.” You looked over your shoulder at him.

He was looking off into the woods, the mostly full moon casting down just enough light to reveal the spaces between the trees. The white snow that covered the ground reflected well and the entirety of the land was relatively visible. “It is at least an hours walk. Perhaps two at most.”

You all but stopped your steps and faced him. “Master Kenway, I’m shocked. That isn’t a childish complaint, is it?”

His brows jolted and his gaze jumped to you. “I beg pardon?”

You chuckled at how insulted he looked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were sulking.” You grinned rather boastfully at him and, of course, it shifted his mood rather quickly.

Haytham swaggered forward with his head high. “I should hope you are not suggesting that your Grand Master is so weak-willed.”

You cocked your head. “Unless it’s true.”

His own lips pulled into grin. “And what do you think, my dear? You think that I am… weak? That it is my own fault a brigand came along and stole our transportation?”

Your ducked your head away to hide the growing smirk. “I think…” You reached out and fiddled with the edge of his jacket, finding that your fingers were coloring in shades of purple. “You should have listened to me.”

“Hah!” Haytham shouted but underneath it all there was a laugh. “I should have!” His arms quickly scooped you up against his chest, squeezing you tightly as you giggled delightfully at the sudden display of affection. He spun you, the cold air caressing against every inch of exposed skin but his warmth around you making it all the more worth it.

You bit your lip, your arms tightening around his neck. “Haytham!”

There was a chuckle low in his throat. He steadied himself, setting you on your feet but refusing to loosen his hold. “We shall not reach the inn quickly enough. We should start a fire nearby and warm up.”

“It wasn’t that far.” You raised a challenging brow at him.

He raised a brow as well, almost mockingly. “I do believe your lips are turning blue.”

You gave a slow nod because Haytham was beginning to look just as cold. “Very well. You win. But if we can’t start a fire and freeze to death…” You began to grin again, watching his expression shift into mischief. You chastised, “Haytham, whatever you’re thinking...”

He turned his attention up towards the stars, that sly smirk still spreading wide. “I don’t believe I’ve ever participated in a snowball fight.”

You gasped and tried to take a few unsteady steps away from him but his arms only loosened a fraction. “We’re freezing out here, Haytham. Fighting with snow isn’t particular the wisest idea.”

He swept his eyes down to you, the pale moonlight reaching past the edge of his hat and casting light across his features. He seemed all the more breathtaking, nose and cheekbones setting the perfect shadow. His hands slid to your hips as he leaned forward, the warmth of his breath a relief to your lips. “And you do look rather adorable when you’re cold.”

You wanted him to close the distance, to finally tease a kiss out of him but you were patient. You let your words brush across his lips to taunt him, “Any colder and I’ll be dead…”

His eyes never left yours as he very mildly shook his head. “I certainly can’t have that, now can I? You’re so little use to me if you’re dead.”

You shoved him playfully. “Well, I can see your priorities--”

Haytham’s mouth captured yours, swallowing the rest of your protest until it morphed into moans. He always knew just when you to pull away for the next kiss, when to sweep his tongue and when to nip at your bottom lip. It wasn’t just his mouth either. His arms always had a way of wrapping mindlessly around you, gathering you wildly against him as if he couldn’t get you close enough.

Haytham finally took down a shivered breath and pulled from the kiss. He drew in his reddening bottom lip, licking at it before muttering, “Well, if we can’t get our fire started… I suppose there are other ways to get warm.”

You pressed your laugh into his chest. “Fire, Haytham. Now.”

He couldn’t resist letting his hands roam across the bend of your back and waist. “A thousand pardons, my dear. I had not realized that you were the Grand Master.”

You craned your neck, chin pressed against his collar. “Oh, I’m far higher than the Grand Master… I’m his greatest weakness.”

His hands reached up to cup against your cheek and there was very little warmth left in his touch. “Then I shall certainly want to keep that weakness fairly close. And certainly alive.” He placed a slow kiss onto your forehead, taking his time before stepping away. “A fire then. Well, where shall we start?”

You rolled your eyes shut. “Sticks, I should presume.”

Haytham gave you a cocky smirk. “It is no wonder you are the one in charge.”


	16. The Escape: Desmond Miles x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyone order some fluff with their Desmond?

You hurried to the rendezvous point, your hands clenched tight until you thought the bones might crack beneath the pressure. Everything had gone as planned but you just needed to see everyone before you could relax. You had to know that Shaun and Rebecca made it safely to the location to evacuate. Most importantly, you needed to see Desmond. You needed to see him with your own eyes and confirm that his mission succeeded.

But when you reached the spot, the van’s back doors were open wide with Shaun and Rebecca waiting… Your heart sunk. You dug your nails into your palm and marched towards them. “Where’s Desmond?”

Shaun’s brows jolted. “A bit late, it would seem.”

You tossed a hand towards the empty street. “He was supposed to get here before all of us.”

Shaun seemed a bit miffed about your attitude, snapping with his own harsh words, “Well we haven’t exactly heard from him since he gave us the signal that everything was a go.”

“Sure he’s fine,” Becca added but she didn’t sound convinced. “It’s nothing to--”

You hurried off in the direction that Desmond’s path was supposed to follow in order to reach the van. You grounded your teeth together. You couldn’t wait around for him to show up. For all you knew, the Templars had captured him. Or perhaps he was wounded and dying in the some backalley.

You had been given the easy task of distracting while Desmond was supposed to infiltrate the warehouse. He wanted to prove himself, to show that all of his training and studying hadn’t been wasted. If he gave Shaun and Rebecca the go ahead… why hadn’t he reached the rendezvous? He was the closest one to the spot.

You heard a whistle from above, stopping you mid-step. You glanced up and saw the flash of a white hood, your heart leaping into your throat. You whispered harshly, “Des?” You raced to the base of the building, climbing its surface with practiced ease then hauled yourself onto the roof.

He grabbed your arm and steadied you onto your feet. “Took you long enough to find me.”

You shoved him hard, your anger barely contained. “Desmond Miles. What the hell are you doing up here? Why aren’t you at the pickup?” You shoved him against for emphasis just so he knew how pissed you were.

He chuckled, unphased by your irritation. “Babe.”

“I thought you were in trouble…” You reached out to shove him against but Desmond held your hand against his chest. “I came all the way out here to save your sorry ass and you’re just up here… Sight seeing?”

“Come on.” He grinned, tilting his head to peer through his lashes, the way he looked at you when he wanted something. “I’ll explain when we get there.”

You tried to jerk your hand away but Desmond gathered it back up with a glower. “Desmond, we are supposed to evac the area. Templars are looking for us.”

He dragged you towards the rooftop door and opened it. “I know. That’s why it’d be nice to get out of sight.” He winked quickly and dropped his voice to a whisper, “Just trust me, babe. I know what I’m doing.”

You sighed heavily. “Fine.”

Desmond jostled down the flight of stairs and stepped into one of the hallways. He walked through the building as if it hadn’t been his first time there. He threw a grin over his shoulder before stopping in front of one of the doors. He opened it without hesitation and motioned you inside. “You first.”

You huffed and playfully rolled your eyes. “Oh, good. I’ll just walk into the uncleared apartment and hope I live.”

“Please.” His brows arched and he gave you the sweet, puppy eyes you were familiar with. Familiar and still very vulnerable to. “You won’t regret this.” He reached out and hooked a finger into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging tenderly on it until you nodded in consent.

You stepped into the small apartment, followed the short hallway to the living room where pillows and blankets were cluttered together. Candles covered every surface from the coffee table to the windowsill. It was a makeshift getaway, a simple space designed for relaxing.

He stepped behind you, warm breath against your ear. “I told Becca and Shaun that we deserved a little alone time.” Desmond’s large hands enveloped your waist, sweeping across your stomach until he could hug you against him. “Found out this place was abandoned and… Well…”

You leaned back against him and delighted in his warmth. You sighed softly as your eyes slipped closed. “Desmond.”

“Told you to trust me.” He pressed his mouth against your cheek. “Three days. Just the two of us.”

You shifted in his arms, trying to look at his expression over your shoulder. “Do we have time for this? Abstergo--”

“Sh. Babe.” He shook his head slightly, eyes darting off. “Fuck Abstergo. We deserve this. I, damn well, deserve this.”

You laughed abruptly. “I’ll be sure to relay that message to Abstergo should they find us.”

“What would I do without you?” Des carefully maneuvered you in his arms until you were facing him, his lips hovering over yours.

You pecked a quick kiss onto his lips. “You won't ever have to.”

“We’ve been so busy running around that…” His eyes rolled off to the side. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you for days.”

Your laughed bubbled out of you. “Des, we just talked this morning over breakfast.”

“What I meant to say is…” He cleared his throat and groaned, brows pinching together as searched frantically for the words. “I can’t imagine being alone anymore.”

“Des…” You lifted a hand and cupped it against his cheek, feeling the heat that burned there. You couldn’t understand why he was so nervous, why he was blushing so hard.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you…” He tilted his head against your hand and pressed his lips into your wrist, suckling against the soft skin. “I want to marry you.”

Your lips parted, watching as he placed slow tantalizing kissed along your inner arm. “Yes.” You were half aware that you even said it, muttering it again for clarification. “Yes, Des. Of course.” You gathered his head into your hands, impatiently forcing his mouth to press against yours.

He smiled and tilted his head away. “Three days. Just the two of us. No phone calls. No missions.” His eyes softened, his expression free of all tension that the past few years had assaulted him with. He whispered it like a pleasant prayer, a religious invocation, “Fiance.”

You kissed him, chaste but determined, the both of you smiling. You giggled and ducked your head against his neck. “I love you, Des.”

His arms squeezed around you, a moan of approval. “I love you… my fiance.”


	17. The Execution: Ezio Auditore x Reader

You held your head high, summoned every ounce of courage as you looked out over the roaring crowd of peasants and beggars. They shouted for your death, called out for it as if you had been the monster that stalked them in the night. If only they knew the truth. If only they understood that you had in fact once fought for them against their tyrannical leaders, those who truly oppressed them. If only they could have seen the taut strings that had pulled every event leading up into that moment.

But all they saw was your infamy.

You straightened your spine and lifted your eyes from the crowd to the cluttered buildings, the glint of sunlight off of the crimson terracotta rooftops, the darkened shadows of hawks as they circled overhead, sensing the impending death that would spill before them. You took down a breath and droned out the crowd’s rising voice. You focused all of your senses and searched every alleyway and corner. Nothing. No one.

You returned your attention to the crier as he shouted out your endless list of crimes.

Murderer. Brigand. Assassin.

Assassin, you reveled. You couldn’t deny most of the charges. Although, to be fair, pouring pigs blood down onto a group of nobles had been Ezio’s idea. It had also been his idea to break into the guard captain’s home to leave behind a stolen goat that ended up eating various important documents.

The executioner stepped before you, his eyes empty behind his mask. He settled the noose around your neck as if he were crowning the next queen, each of his movements were of near practice grace. He tightened the noose ever so slightly, just enough that it would catch as you fell. You didn’t bother struggling against the ropes tied awkwardly behind your back. Your wrists were too shredded and raw for that.

You shifted your attention away from him towards the rooftops again. You hoped and pleaded that someone would reach you in time. You’d been locked inside of the prison for nearly over a week so surely someone would arrive for the rescue.

You were pushed around and placed pointedly on the trap, the rope around your neck suddenly searing to the touch. From the corner of your eye you watched the executioner approach the lever, the last of your crimes being called out for all of Italy to hear.

You slipped your eyes closed and readied for the drop. You heard it all: the wooden lever groaned, the platform beneath your feet vanished in a slap, the flitting whistle of an arrow flew overhead. The noose around your neck grew taut then altogether disappeared. You fell until the ground hit the base of your feet, your ankles twisting out from under you and your knees aching just before you toppled over.

The spectators suddenly began to scream and shout as terror washed over them. Someone yelled over the crowd, voice bellowing with rage and demand, “Assassins! Don't let them reach the prisoner.”

You couldn’t see anything from beneath the platform, only the stampeding feet of the townspeople as they tried to escape the area in a wild and confused mass. You rolled weakly up onto your knees, the ropes that bound your wrists barely permitting you to move. You couldn’t escape the area, couldn’t climb through the open hatch and make a run for it, not without help.

Boots landed hard onto the wooden beams above, kicking down dust and dirt into your fluttering eyes. They walked confidently along before expertly leaping down the hatch to the ground below. He grinned at the sight you, relief lighting his eyes. “Pardon, mia bella. I did not mean to interrupt your... execution but I am searching for a close friend of mine…” He lifted a teasing and wry brow. “Perhaps you have seen her?”

You chuckled with delight then shook your head, regaining seriousness. “Ezio, shut up and untie me. The guards aren’t going to wait around while you flirt.”

He gave a mock gasp. “Mia bella, I was merely lightening the mood.” He flicked his wrist, hidden blade jutting out to shear away the coarse ropes. “Executions are all so incredibly… morbid.”

You grinned widely and playfully shoved your shoulder against him. “Less talking, more freeing.” The ropes jerked away, your wrists free and arms falling limply at your side. You hadn’t realized how weak and hollow your arms felt, finding it nearly impossible to lift them.

Ezio must have noticed your hesitation, or the swaying in your form, because his arm hooked around your waist and pulled you up onto your throbbing feet. He awkwardly helped you out from beneath the platform before guiding you safely away from the attention of the guards who were distracted by the onslaught of other Assassins.

He led the way down alleys and you couldn’t be certain where he was headed. You couldn’t keep track of all the turns or the sharp dodges into doorways that you were forced to take in order to avoid a passing patrol of guards. Your entire body ached from the aftermath of imprisonment and near death. That was all your mind could process.

Ezio finally halted before a door, shoving it open and escorting you inside. Niccolo and Leonardo rose to their feet, rushing forward to see for themselves that you were alive and well. But Ezio waved them away, hardly stopping long enough as he corralled you up the stairs to the second floor.

You sighed with relief when Ezio helped ease you down onto the edge of the bed. You tried to smirk, to lighten your tone a bit, “Remind me to send never a fruit basket to the guard captain. He’s a terrible host.”

Ezio’s hands captured your face and forced you to look at him. His eyes held yours and his brows arched beneath an array of guilt and sorrow.

You shoved him before he could voice his apologies. “And you appear to be no better. Where is my offering of wine? Perhaps a bite of food? You haven’t even asked me how my day was. I’m insulted.”

Ezio choked back a sob with a deep throated chuckle. He ducked his head away but you saw the glistening of a few tears. “I have missed you more than could you know.” He stood up and pulled down the blankets on the bed. “Rest and then I shall grab us both wine and food.”

You stiffly tried to shift your weight but it was near impossible to get anything to work correctly. Ezio helped bring your legs up onto the bed and ease your head onto a few pillows. He rolled the covers over you before carefully easing himself down onto his side, taking up the other half of the bed.

You swept your gaze over to him, taking in the details of his features, the very features that you had missed. “I don’t want to sleep.” You were afraid to sleep. You weren’t ready close your eyes and recall the images of the past week.

“Do you think maybe you could just talk to me then?” Ezio reached out a shaky hand, barely letting it caress over the softness of your cheek. “I don’t care about what. I just want to hear the sound of your voice until we fall asleep.”

You chuckled. Your hand found the collar of his shirt, rubbing the cloth between your fingers. “Did you see that hideous tunic Machiavelli was wearing? You should seriously consider talking to him about his fashion sense.”

Ezio smiled widely, letting it reach the corner of his eyes. “I was too busy looking at Leonardo’s hat. I don't think he’s taken it off in all the time that I’ve known him.”

You leaned forward, voice dropping down to a secretive whisper, “I propose we steal them.”

“I’ve always loved the way you think.” He slipped his eyes closed and pressed his forehead against yours. “I was so worried we wouldn’t reach you in time.”

“Sleep, Ezio.” A mischief coated your words, “In the morning we must find a way to divest Leonardo of that threadbare hat.”

He gave a moan of approval, thumb tenderly taking in the curve of your jawbone.


	18. Forgiven: Ratonhnhaké:ton x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Content: This was requested a long time ago and it's taken me forever to finally get it written and edited the way that I like D: I'm sorry it took me this long! I hope it was worth the wait!

You were furious with him. Enraged, really. He’d gone off on his own to hunt Charles Lee after you told him clearly not to. You could have helped. You could have offered him some form of assistance. But he was stubborn. You didn’t even realize what he was planning until it was after the fact.

He showed up at your door with blood pooling across his chest, drenching his clothes and skin. He had shaved the sides of his head and smeared war paint across his cheeks. He was half delirious when you opened the door for him, breathing heavily and whimpering when he could no longer handle the pain.

You tended to the wounds with ale and scalding metal, burning the deep gash until it melted closed. You dealt with his mindless anger that arose during bouts of fever, a half crazed amount of growling and muttering. You cleaned away the blood and the smudged paint. You spent every waking moment with him. When you thought he was well enough to be alone, you fetched a doctor but they only performed the same tasks that you had already done yourself.

It was over a week before he showed signs of healing. He responded silently to questions and drank what you offered without needing assistance. But as responsive as he was, he had little energy to talk or stay awake. He slept for the most part and it was those long moments of quiet that bothered you the most.

You were stitching together his waistcoat and jacket, fixing the tears from whatever battles he’d arrogantly dealt with on his own. You rolled your eyes up at him, an afterthought really, but there he was peacefully watching you. You tossed the clothes aside and hurried over to the bed, grabbing the cup of water from the nightstand.

His words were deep, raspy but he sounded as if nothing had really happened to him, “Thank you.”

You pressed the water to his lips, forced him to take a few good swallows before setting it down again. “Rest.” You turned to leave, not yet ready to speak with him.

Connor reached out and grabbed hold of your hand, tugging at it for you to stay. “I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you to worry.”

Your brows pinched as you faced him. “You didn’t mean to make me worry?” You hadn’t realized how bitter you were until you spoke and he must have not realized it either. “Well you did.”

“You are angry?” He tried to sit up but it was obviously painful for him.

“Angry?” You leaned forward and shoved his shoulder back into the bed. “I’m furious! Enraged! You could have asked for my help!”

“It was my battle--”

“No!” You jerked your hand away from his. “It is all of ours. You are not the only Assassin. We are all in the same war together.”

“Forgive me.” His features distorted with sorrow and a deep rooted grief. “I was caught in my own vengeance that I did not care to ask you about how you were feeling.” He reached out for your hand again, cautiously taking hold of it.

You clenched your teeth. You were still irritated. You had every right to be upset with him. You thought he would die. You agonizingly watched him during the worst of his fever. “You need to get some sleep. You’re still hurt.”

His large hand encased around yours and squeezed. “Stay with me. I do not want to be alone.” He rolled his eyes shut, a twinge of pain striking across his expression. “I am tired of shouldering all of these things alone.”

You released a slow breath and perched yourself on the side of the bed. “You chose to be alone. I could’ve helped you had you asked me.”

He gave a few meager nods before opening his eyes, dark and deep pools of redwood and russet earth. They were eyes of longing, a desire to be cared for and loved, and warm as a hearth’s fire. “I did not wish this pain upon you. I wanted only to save you from getting hurt.”

Your annoyance struck up again, your tone darkening, “I’m an Assassin. If you had taken me, I could have kept you from getting hurt. And then we wouldn’t be in this situation at all.”

“I know this and yet…” He pressed his cheek into the pillow, those sad puppy eyes of his peering up sweetly. “I would rather die than risk you getting hurt.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his forehead. “That’s not your choice to make.”

He gave a low throated moan. “Isn’t it?” Before you could protest or even make some form of complaint, Connor’s arms grappled around you, pulling you down onto the bed with him.

“Connor!” You struggled at first, the initial shock taking over your instincts. But then Connor hissed and winced, his hold loosening when the pain of his wound splintered. You carefully rolled onto the bed beside him, taking a worried look at his raw scab. “You’re still healing.”

His hand moved along the taut muscles of his chest, drawing your attention as he pushed the covers downwards to pool across his hips. “Then perhaps we shall need to be more careful.”

You bit your lip. You shook your head, trying to stay resolved in your choice. “No. Connor, no. You could make things so much worse for yourself.”

His back arched as his hand slipped beneath the sheets towards the hardening bulge. “Yes but I need you. I have needed you.” His other hand slid between your clothed thighs, kneading into the pliant muscle.

You released the breath you’d been holding. “C-Connor…” You groaned as he stroke himself in timing with each tender squeeze to your leg. “Damn it.” You quickly rolled onto your beck, tugging at the lacing of your trousers and jerking them down over your hips. But it wasn’t quick enough, especially when he shifted his weight on the bed and the sheet pulled away to reveal his swollen and reddening cock.

You threw your boots and breeches across the room and eagerly got to your knees. Connor was just as desperate, his hands jerking hold of your hips until you were straddled over him. His hand slipped beneath the loose fabric of your shirt, gliding across the bare skin. His palm just barely brushed over the hardened nipples.

Your eyes roved down across his chest and abdomen further to the jutting heat that lay flat against his stomach. Your lowered your moistening folds, allowing it to rub teasingly along his shaft, never nearing his tip.

Connor sucked down a breath of air through clenched teeth. “Here. Let me… I wish to taste.” He tugged your hips forward, encouraging you to crawl higher up his body.

“Oh? Why should I?” You took your time moving up along his figure as you pulled the shirt up and over your head. Your hips hovered at an unreachable distance near his chest. “You showed up at my door half dead…”

He gave a low groan as his hands fervently massaged up your legs and then over the softness of your backside. “Let me make up for my mistake.” His eyes were slipping shut with lust. “Please.” His fingers clenched around anything and everything, begging for the opportunity.

“You’ve a lot to make up for.” Your words were teasing but behind them there was an ache in your chest. “I spent days thinking you would die.”

“I know.” He whispered it like a soft prayer, “And I am sorry.”

“You can be forgiven…” You posted your knees on either side of his head, lowering yourself just enough so that Connor could reach. “With some convincing.”

“I will make up for everything and more.” He lifted his head and swept his tongue upwards in one long stroke across your opening, your breath stilling in your chest.

Your legs tightened, quivering to hold you still as the heat of his mouth captured your clit. He suckled on it, his deep long moan trembling through your core and causing your toes to curl. Your hands clasped hold of the headboard in an attempt to keep yourself from falling as the rapid flicks of his tongue arched your back.

Your head bowed when his mouth moved to your throbbing cunt, tongue flickering over the edges in such a way that you whimpered. “Connor, please.”

“No.” His teeth harshly tugged at the sensitive skin along your thigh. “My name.”

Your legs melted out from under you and your arms were the only thing to keep you from completely falling over. You pressed your crown into the headboard. “Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

His hands wrapped around your ribs and pulled you down on him. His mouth worked fervently, drawing out noises from you that you barely recognized as your own. He was an expert, knowing just where to press the tip of his tongue and where to focus the exploration of his lips.

Your hand made its way to the rough stubble of his scalp, grasping at the roots of his hair as he buried himself into you. Your hips bucked, rubbing your clit sharply across his teeth but Connor held your firmly where he wanted you.

Your quivering muscles stiffened as the wave of pleasure crawled from the base of your spine upwards across your skull. You threw your head back, sighing and growling out his name incoherently, “Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

He swallowed down your orgasm, twirling his tongue along your opening to lick at what he could. He gave another low moan. He guided your hips to his chest, breath heaving raggedly but the smirk told a story of delight. His lips were swollen and glossy. He grabbed your neck and pulled you closer so that you could taste the tart bitterness of yourself in the heady kiss.

Your mouth slipped away from his, falling weakly to the pillow as you tried to control your panting. You could have melted against him, could have curled up and fell asleep. But Connor wasn’t finished yet. He lifted your hips and pushed them back until you raised your head and looked at him. You’d never seen him quite as needy or as broken as you saw him then, every bit of him lay exposed and vulnerable.

“Ratohnhake:ton.” You leaned forward and hovered your lips over his forehead, ghostly moving down across his eyes and nose towards his mouth. “I have missed you.”

“Forgive me for having stayed away.” His hands moved to your neck as your mouths encompassed one another. It was gentler kiss, not as bruisingly hungry as earlier but still just as deep. He caressed his hands back and forth over your shoulders and arms, enveloping everything they moved across.

Your lips tugged away from his, tingling from the vigorous sensation. You straightened your spine and moved further down his body. You positioned your hips over his erection, knees digging into the hard mattress. You took the searing heat into your palm, the weight of it heavier than you expected. You deliberately rubbed your thumb across the soft tip and smeared the sticky precum across it.

Connor’s back arched and his hands clawed into the bed. “Please.” His strangled words sent a tightening knot low between your thighs. “I beg you.”

You toyed with the length, fingers moving featherly every which way. You watched his eyes clench shut, his hips jerk off of the mattress for something to ram into. “Please what?”

He moaned low in his chest. “Please. Fuck me.”

Your grasp on him grew a bit firmer, squeezing and tugging until he bit into his bottom lip. “Are you sure that’s the word you want?”

He tried to nod but the moment you pressed the tip of his cock into your moist opening his lips parted and trembled. His mouth fell wider the further you sank down onto him, your heat surrounding him. The hands that grappled the bed earlier, jolted to grip fiercely onto the bend of your knees.

Your hands fell flat against his abdomen, a poor attempt to keep yourself steady as you took the last of him inside of you. You released a slow sigh. You carefully rolled your hips forward, your body convulsing with the sudden bursts of satisfaction. Connor’s hips bucked to meet with yours, forming a messy and unrythmic joining as skin slapped together. You quickened your pace, your body working harder to slide him in and out of your slick walls.

His jaws were clenched as he suppressed the urge to cum. Connor pressed a shaky hand against your clit. His fingers began to encircle the swollen nub, rubbing it wildly with the need for your release to happen before his own.

You moaned as the muscles in your legs began to convulse. You muttered a lusty and raspy, “Yes, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” Your breath hitched, barely letting the word escape, “Yes.” Your body jerked still as your orgasm spilled just before his. Your nails curled to sink into his skin. You released unsteady pants. You leaned forward before resting your cheek against his chest. You took down a long deep breath of his scent laced with citrusy pine and smoky cedar.

Connor’s calloused hand followed the curve of your back and rubbed gentle circles across it. “Am I forgiven?”

You chuckled between heavy breaths. “Perhaps. I might need a little reassurance later.” You lifted off of him, his softening cock slipping out as you leaned forward and kissed him briefly.

“I am yours.” Connor curled an arm around your back as you laid down against his side. “For now, the Order does not need us.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder and gladly pressed yourself into his side. “For now, yes. Later on, you will treat me as an Assassin.”

He gave a low hum then muttered hesitantly, “I can not. I can not ignore what I feel for you. I will always worry that you might get hurt.”

You sighed with both frustration and content. “I know.”

He turned his head and pressed his words into your hair, “I love you.”

“I love you as well. And I know it’s hard.” You placed your hand onto his chest, fingers smoothing across his taut skin. “We will watch out for each other.”

“I did not consider how afraid you would be…” Connor reached down and pulled at the sheets and covers. “How angry.”

You helped him spread the blankets over the both of you before settling against him. “Let’s not think about it anymore. You need sleep and more time to recover.”

His laugh rolled out of his chest, a rich and deep sound. “I can make up for more of my mistakes when we wake.”

You rolled your eyes up to see the cocky smirk. “You’re going to sleep. You can make it up to me when you’re completely healed.”

His words were firm, hinting at playful, “We shall see.”


	19. The Boys: Altair, Ezio, Connor, Edward, Arno, Jacob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving! So I'm going to leave this here *slides it towards you guys*

You were so furious and angry that you barely managed to get the key into the slot. You shoved opened the front door to your apartment and slammed it shut behind you. You kicked off your sneakers and tossed your purse into the corner by the door, hardly caring that some of its contents spilled. You slammed your keys onto the small table and marched down the hall towards your bedroom, passing the scrutiny of your roommates.

You threw the bathroom door closed behind you and locked it. You had worked all day, the noise of customers ringing in your ears, the droning sounds of the city in the background. Worst of all it was Thanksgiving and your feet ached, your back was stiff from standing all day. Your skull felt brittle as you let down your hair, pulled too taut that morning when you got dressed.

There came a loud knock on the door, the boys outside muttering and arguing with each other. You didn’t want to talk to them. Not yet anyway. You just wanted a long hot bath to clear your head and to be alone.

“I’m taking a bath,” you growled it, hardly expecting to sound so angry.

Someone cleared their throat. Connor’s soft, puppy voice spoke through the door, “We were just concerned… Perhaps, you need to talk?”

The door rattled, someone being shoved aside. Edward, loud and boisterous, shouted irritably, “Lass, you open this door and tell us what happened. You didn’t come home like this because some fop was nice to you.”

“Who was it, mia bella? Your boss?” Ezio clattered his knuckles against the door a few times, shifting his weight against it. “Mia bella, please.”

Arno was softer spoken, perhaps a distance away, “Ask if she got mugged.”

“Mugged!” Jacob spat bitterly, “I’m more concerned if she was raped!”

“I said I’m taking a bath.” You clenched your teeth, not because you were angry but because you were embarrassed. You turned the water on and allowed the noise to echo in the bathroom. You couldn’t hear their probing questions anymore and hoped they would wander back towards the living room. Thankfully the bathtub was loud enough to drown out your hushed sniffles as well.

You threw aside your work clothes and stepped into the hot water. You eased down with relief before turning the faucet off. You sunk down further into the water until you were fully submerged, feeling the heat roll across your face and crown, pulling the tension out of the muscles and achy bones.

This had been one of the worst days, your shift at the diner hadn’t gone well. You were asked to work a double shift that continued late into the night which normally you wouldn’t have minded. It was Thanksgiving and the boys offered to do all the cooking, which they normally did anyway. So, you agreed to work the hours, to be paid extra. But then some drunks came in, sitting themselves in your section, demanding a full audience with you. They had been kicked out of some bar down the street and needed a new place to haunt.

You sat up out of the water and took down a sharp breath, your anger having consumed you well enough to keep you under the water for far too long. You were angry. You were also hurt, exposed in a way you couldn’t explain.

“Mia bella?” Ezio was knocking again. “Are you alright?”

Connor asked rather softly, “Was she crying?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course they hadn’t left. “I’m fine.” You opened the drain before getting out of the tub. You grabbed your towel from the shelf. You dried off then cursed yourself for not grabbing any clothes during your stampede to the bathroom. You wrapped the towel around your body and jerked open the door.

Ezio’s face was neutral until he noticed your attire. His brows rose a bit, edge of his lips curling. “I don’t suppose you’ll be willing to talk to us like that.”

You clenched the towel tighter. Something in your expression must have given hint to how you were feeling, the humor in Ezio’s features fading. “No. I don’t want to talk. I want to go to my room and be alone.”

Connor ducked his head away, his face blooming with a blush, his hands fumbling together nervously. “We hadn’t realized…”

You stalked past them towards your bedroom, slipping inside and closing the door. You turned on the lights and groaned. “Can’t you people leave me alone?”

Altair sat rather callously on the edge of your bed, his expression expertly neutral. “I will leave you alone when you finally cease your sulking. What happened? Do not dare avoid the question.”

You marched towards the chest of drawers, rifling through layers of clothes for a matching set of sleepwear. You were ignoring Altair and he was aware of it, his gaze burning hotly into your back as you finally found some pants and shirt. You tossed them onto the bed then searched for underwear.

“You realize they won’t let this go.” Altair stood up and sauntered over. “Neither will I. What happened? You’ve never come home like this before.”

Your anger blustered and you shoved the drawer closed. But it was a defensive anger, an anger to hide how hurt you were. You slid your eyes shut and crossed your arms. “Some customers at work were… harassing me…” Your defensive anger began to melt away, your words becoming softer, less confident. “I tried to put up with it, at least until they left, but then one… grabbed my ass… pulled me into his lap.”

Altair’s body went rigid, every muscle taut and his eyes empty as he stared into the wall.

“I got away but then…” You rolled your eyes. “I was upset so I grabbed his cup of coffee and poured it on his face. It was really chaotic, lots of screaming and shouting… The manager fired me.”

He turned sharply and hurried out of the room, the door clamouring shut behind him.

You scurried to get your clothes on while trying to listen in on the argument they were having outside. You finally got on your pants and rushed to the door but then… you grew nervous, knowing that they knew… They were aware of what happened and something in you felt ashamed.

You shut your eyes and steadied your breathing before walking to the living room, their shouts slowly coming to a halt when you neared. Your smile was forced, thinned under anxiety, as you searched for a way to break the tension. “What’s all this yelling? Altair eat all the yogurt again?”

Connor, the large bear of a man, took large steps forward and encased you in his arms. He didn’t say a word, just smothered you against his chest, enveloping your senses with the scent of cedar.

“I say we find these blokes.” Jacob got up out of his chair and stalked towards the door, Altair and Edward right behind him without protest.

“What?” You tried to worm your way out of Connor’s arms but he simply wasn’t having it. You shouted over at them. “Wait. Don’t get yourself arrested.” The door slammed shut and the three of them were long gone.

Arno lifted a bottle of wine into view. “Shall we?”

Connor loosened his grip and threw him a harsh glower. “She does not need alcohol. She needs…” His words trailed away because he wasn’t even sure himself what you needed.

“Chocolate,” Ezio seemed to coo as he dashed off towards the kitchen.

“I don’t need you guys to baby me.” You pried yourself away from Connor and dropped down into the closest recliner. “I’m perfectly fine. Really.”

“Ice cream.” Connor walked off after Ezio as if the idea only recently came to him.

Arno shook his head and slid a glass of the dark liquid towards you. “Wine makes everything better, mon amie. Trust me. I should know.”

“Arno,” you chastised but grabbed the glass all the same, swishing the liquid around with minor interest. “You know they’re going to get themselves arrested, right? I’m not looking forward to bailing them out of jail in the morning.”

Arno snorted as he sat back on the couch, his own glass in hand. “I hadn’t realized they asked you what these men looked like. Or even what their names are. They will return here with their tails tucked, mon amie.”

You raised a pointed brow at him. “You guys hunt Templars. I think they can manage to find some nameless nobodies.”

Ezio was quickly making his way over, his stash of fine imported chocolates in hand. “Trust me, Connor. She needs chocolate.”

Connor was close behind, the tub of ice cream in hand. “She needs her favorite ice cream. It’s the one she usually eats when she has had a bad day.” He threw you a pleading look, hoping you would explain it to him.

Ezio gave a shake of his head. “I am better familiar with the ladies than you.” He settled onto the arm of the recliner, his arm posted over the back of the chair. “This, mia bella, will brighten your day.” He grabbed a chunk of chocolate from the bag and brought it to your lips.

You gave a weak grin. “Ezio...”

“I told you. She needs her ice cream.” Connor was quickly sitting down onto the coffee table in front of you. He offered up the open container and spoon with sweet and gentle puppy eyes.

“Connor. Both of you. All three of you.” You rolled your eyes but laughed wholeheartedly. You grinned at each of them, taking in their shocked but concerned expressions. “I’m seriously okay now. I feel much better having you guys here.” You gave a soft sigh. “I’m just worried the others will get themselves into some trouble.”

Ezio leaned forward and pecked a kiss onto your head. “I will go and fetch them, mia bella. They didn’t get far.”

You shook your head with dismay. “Ezio, knowing you, you’ll end up joining them.”

He chuckled as he hurried to the door. “Do not worry. Connor and Arno will keep me out of trouble… For the most part.”

Connor pouted but he got to his feet and joined Ezio at the door.

Arno also seemed displeased having to leave you alone. He set down his glass and leaned towards you. He pressed a slow kiss onto your cheek and whispered, “Clever, mon amie, getting us all out of the house so you could be alone.”

You giggled, meeting his eyes with a smile. “Clever of you to notice.”

“We will return with the others and have dinner together.” He gave you a wink before quickly exiting the apartment.

You released a slow sigh once they were all gone. You grabbed the chocolate and dropped it down into your ice cream then began the lovely process of eating what little was left in the container. You’d find a way to thank the boys later. But honestly, a little peace and quiet after a noisy day was all you really wanted.

Connor was the first to return, his steps heavy across the floorboards as he made his way over. The others filtered into the apartment just as he was sitting down in front of you, grinning to see that you consumed what little was left of the ice cream.

“It is only fair if I carve the turkey,” Ezio griped at Altair, following the man into the kitchen. “I am the one who cooked it after all.”

Altair threw him a fierce glare. “Only because you chased the rest of us out of the kitchen.”

“You do not understand the delicate science of herbs and flavor combinations,” he protested but quickly turned his attention to Jacob and Edward who were grabbing the pies off their cooling racks and taking them into the living room. “No! We are going to eat the meal first this time!”

Jacob flashed you a quick wink before setting the pie onto the coffee table. “Grab some plates for us, will you, Arno?”

Edward sat down onto the couch rather cheekily. “Forks too, mate.”

You gave Connor a slightly worried smile. “It’s starting already.”

His brows caved beneath the same amount of concern. “The holidays are too hectic.”

“Altair!” Ezio threw his hands up as the other Assassin took a carving knife to the oversized bird. “It is my turn to carve the turkey! Why does no one ever listen? Every year you bastardi ruin this.”

Arno waltzed away from the kitchen with the plates, forks, and another bottle of wine. “It’s more like… creating traditions.”

You chuckled at the disgust on Ezio’s face. “Come over here and eat some pie with us already. It won’t kill you to eat a little dessert first.”

He tossed his hands the more annoyed he became, “But… my souffles need to be warmed up--”

“Ezio.” You glowered at him, daring him to argue. “Relax a little. Drink some wine.”

Edward plopped down onto the couch and began to serve out pieces to everyone as Jacob returned to the kitchen griping about no one appreciating the importance of ale. Well, no one but Edward that is.

You playfully fought with Connor over the last piece of your favorite pie, challenging him to a three round match of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Ezio and Altair eventually skulked their way over, leaving the oven to warm up the food that was prepared earlier. Arno ended up drinking far more than the rest, convincing everyone to take a silly group photo of them descending hungrily onto the spread out feast.

By the time everyone made it to the actual meal, they were exhausted and tipsy, shouting over each other and singing rather poorly. Eventually you were all stretching out on the couches and recliners, watching the holiday specials on television but your mind mostly flittered over the scattered Assassins. Some were already sleeping, a few muttering irritably and half-drunkenly about the cartoon that was on.

You smirked rather pleased and sunk down further into your chair.

This. This was good.

Then again… it might have been the wine and ale talking.


	20. A Better Man: Edward x Reader

Edward didn’t look pleased at all. His lips were thin and pouting, their edges pulled down ever so slightly. His eyes were a mix of bitter annoyance and kicked puppy. Not to mention that his hair was thrown in disarray, the black ribbon just barely able to tame it back. A delightful combination and under any other circumstances, you’d have divested him of his clothes and taken him right there in the cabin.

He rolled his shoulders for the hundredth time and gave another groan. “Honestly, lass. Couldn’t you have found us a better way in?”

You raised a brow at him, tugging at his expensive jacket and glaring up at him. “Edward. We’ve discussed this. The best way to get close to Rogers is to go to his party. You can’t exactly do that looking like a man who just got washed ashore after a hurricane.” You dropped your hands and motioned for him to take the seat behind him.

Edward all but fell back into it, slouching his weight down in childish protest. “I know nothing about these sorts of things. I'm not a noble or regal of any sort. They'll take a look at me and know.”

You walked around him and posted yourself behind his chair. “That’s why I’m going with you. It’ll be fine, Edward.” You carefully untied the ribbon before gently combing your fingers through the tangled strands of his hair. It smelled of sea water, a lively marriage of salt and musk. It even felt coarse and brittle from constant sun but also a thickness to it that demanded each brushing stroke.

Edward chuckled a bit, the first sounds of delight since the whole mission started. His voice sounded huskier, darker, “Enjoying yourself, love?”

You gathered his hair neatly before wrapping and securing it in place. “I am. And, I look forward to dancing with you tonight.”

He gave a hum of approval, eyes slipping closed and chin resting upon his curled hand. “I’m not much of a dancer, I'm afraid. Unless it's done in a pub. After a proper drink or three.”

You rounded the chair, fingers trailing across his shoulder just before you carefully curled up in his lap. “I swear to you that after this is done we will find ourselves a ship out at sea full of rum and ale... and you'll forget all about this night.”

Edward tilted his head back, thin lips tugging into a crooked smirk. “There may be some parts yet of tonight that I wish to remember.”

“Oh?” You lifted a brow, dipping your head down to suckle against the pliant skin beneath his ear. “And what sort of memory will that be when you can't exactly take your clothes off?”

Edward’s large hand followed the curve of your back before cupping against your thigh and squeezing. “I've no need to be naked to satisfy you, love.”

You laughed abruptly then got to your feet. “That I do not doubt.” You sashayed away from him, being sure to let your hips roll with each step. You focused on fixing your own hair in the mirror. You had to make sure you both looked rich enough to be at the governor’s party. You’d been to them before, countless times when you were younger. All of them were really just a game of pretend, games of show and tell.

Edward followed after you, palms kneading into your waist.

You looked at his reflection, the way he admired you in his arms. You spoke gentler, “After the mission. First we kill Rogers. Then you can have all you desire.”

“I've already got what I desire.” He tenderly took hold of your hand and pulled it to his mouth, the short stubble around his lips scratching subtly across your skin. “I’ve no need for nothing else.”

You cocked your head at him but couldn’t stop the smile. “You can’t sweet talk me out of this. It’s our easiest option.”

Edward laughed a rumbling sound, rich and filling as honey. “I mean it, love. I want nothing but you.” His warmth was fierce behind you but burned more so along your bare shoulders, the dress hugging barely onto your arms. “I love you. And it’s not just you that I love…”

You chuckled abruptly. “Is that so? She a pretty thing?” You turned around so that you could meet him face to face, your lips eager to brush across his.

His eyes were soft, not as playful as you expected. “I love the person that I become when you’re around.” His fingers swept across your cheek, his eyes following the motion. “I love the better man you’ve made me into.”

You draped your arms around his neck and pressed your forehead against his. Your eyes slipped closed, enjoying the warmth he encased you with and the fresh scent of the sea that clung to him. “You’ve always been a good man. You’ve just… made a few selfish choices.”

He gave a deep throated laugh then hummed. “And I still am. Selfish to the core I am, wanting you all to myself.” His lips greedily captured yours, tugging eagerly before pressing firmly once more. You moaned at his desperation, at the hands that gripped tightly around your dress, tugging at the cloth.

You tilted your head away and took a slow breath. “After Rogers is dead. We’ve a mission to get to.”

“We do, aye…” His hand squeezed at your backside, massaging their way across hips to waist. “Once we’re back here on the ship… Don’t expect to see anyone for a while. I want you all to myself.”

The corner of your mouth tugged as you trailed your lips along his jaw. Your teeth nipped at the skin beneath his ear, giggling when his body stiffened. “Then we best kill Rogers quickly. You know I hate waiting.”

Edward hooked his arm low around your hips, pressing you firmly against him. His need was evident by the hardness that bugled against your center. “Shall we?”

“I for one am ready…” You batted your eyes jokingly as you sauntered out of his arms and towards the cabin doors. “You sure you can contain yourself?”

He grabbed your hips from behind, his chest pressing into your back. “Not at all.”


	21. The Journal: Haytham Kenway x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Haytham's birthday and I just YES PLEASE

You hadn’t returned to the Davenport estate in less than two decades. After the events between the Templars and Assassins, you weren’t really planning on visiting at all. You dreaded meeting the familiar eyes of Achilles. But worst of all, you dreaded finding the familiar eyes of your husband in a child that wasn’t your own.

A child, you thought while squeezing the leather journal in your hands. No, he was a grown man by now. If you hadn’t got Hickey drunk a few months ago, you wouldn’t even have been aware of his existence. Haytham hadn’t been keen on telling you, worried you might be ‘disgusted’ or somehow ‘offended’ that he’d been with another woman. He nearly broke down when you confronted him about it, an anxiety you'd never seen in him before.

Ziio, he had called her and a pain splintered across your heart. A knot gathered in your throat and you swallowed a few times until it was gone. You climbed the steps with a steady gaze, knocking your knuckles against the door with as firm a resilience you could muster. You listened to your breathing and the blood pounding in your ears.

The door swung open and it was Achilles who answered, age having changed most of his features. But you would recognize him anywhere and the anger that flared across his expression. “If you’re here to finish the job--”

“I’m not.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the great mentor reduced to a feeble old man. “Had I wanted you dead, I’d have come here years ago.”

He seemed to hiss at that, an anger stiffening his shoulder. “What is it you want, Templar.”

You tried not to smirk, to goad the man. “I’m here to speak. Might I come in?”

Achilles shove the door open wider and shuffled towards the sitting room towards the right. “I’ve nothing I wish to hear from the likes of traitors. If you want me to stay out of your affairs then your time coming here has been wasted.”

You sashayed past him, eyes looking delightfully about the furnished home. You sat down rather gingerly and placed the leather journal onto the seat next to you. “I did not come here to speak of Assassins and Templars. In fact, I did not come here to speak with you.”

If you thought he was angry before you were corrected when his hands tightened into fists and his jaws clenched. “I may be older but I shall not--”

“He has a right to know the truth.” You swept your gaze out across the living room towards the rest of the space. “And I’m certain you’ve kept most of what happened to yourself. Does he know about the sites? Does he know--”

“Enough!” Achilles took a brave step forward.

You sensed the boy before ever even looking at him. Man, you reminded yourself when your eyes met with his. He had his mother’s eyes, you sighed with relief but you saw so much of Haytham in him as well. Too much, you almost cringed, but a part of you felt relief. Haytham had a child. He had another reason to find joy in life.

You stood up slowly. “I did not come here to fight.”

Connor glanced warily between his mentor and you. He finally settled his gaze on, a cold and precise gaze. “Then why is it that you have come?”

You lowered your head, looking at the leather bound journal that Haytham always scribbled his thoughts into. “He doesn’t know I took this. He’s a proud sort of man. He’d be embarrassed to know that someone else read this other than me.” You forced your shoulders down and your head to rise. “I wanted to leave this with you. Read it if you ever become curious about your father.”

Connor’s gave remained unwavered as you stepped forward and placed the thick book onto the table. “My ‘father’ should have come himself if he wanted to speak to me.”

You smirked, tucking your hands behind your back and tossing your attention towards the tense and furious Achilles. You weren’t afraid of the old man but you were a bit cautious about Connor. He was a trained Assassin albeit he was younger than you. You had more experience which might put you at an advantage if things didn’t go well.

You finally returned your attention to the youth. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I wanted to…” You released a soft sigh, swaying your weight between your feet. “He’s a good man, Connor. Whatever you think you know…”

“I know enough,” growled Connor, the calmness of a swelling storm before the rain.

You squeezed your hands together, wishing you had gotten to Connor before Achilles could manipulate him. Your brows caved beneath grief. Haytham would have been a good father if he had been given the opportunity. “The journal will prove it to you. I beg you. Read it.”

Achilles shuffled to the side, motioning towards the foyer. “I think we have heard enough. Return to your Templars with whatever knowledge you sought.”

You peered over at him and shook your head in dismay. “As ignorant as ever, Achilles. I came here for this reason alone. I’m not spying.”

Achilles scoffed. “Says the traitor.”

“You should talk to him about Shay. You should tell him what really happened to your leg.” You stepped past him, fully intent on leaving, but you reached the doorway and looked over at Connor. “His birthday is in a few days. It would mean a great deal if you showed up.”

Connor made no reply but your trained eye saw the change in him clearly. His hardened defences were somewhat softened by that comment. He even looked a tad bit wounded about it but he said nothing as you left the manor and returned to your horse.

~:~

“I simply do not understand how I managed to misplace it.” Haytham was hunched over at his desk, rifling through drawers and gathered books. He even went so far as scattering stacks of paper as if the thick journal could be found beneath them. He gave a sigh and paced away from the desk towards the bookshelves along the wall.

“Haytham.” You watched him run his fingers over each book in search for the familiar leather. You said it more firmly when he hadn’t responded, “Haytham. I stole it.”

Haytham was too caught up in his own thoughts, muttering irritably, “Surely, I did not leave it in New York when last we were there. I could have sworn I just wrote it in last week.”

You groaned, marching across the den towards the bookshelf. You squeezed your body between it and him, your hands snagging firmly onto the lapels of his jacket. “Haytham, listen to me.”

“My dear,” he whispered softly, eyes glazing over as he leaned closer. “Please, let me find it before you seduce me into going upstairs.”

You chuckled, a light hearted sound that Haytham always drew out of you. “I stole it. It’s gone.”

“You what?” He jolted at that bit of knowledge. “Gone? Is this some ploy to get me to stop working for the day? I’ve only been in here for a little over an hour and I still--”

“Haytham.” You pressed the tips of your fingers against his soft, thin lips. “I’m sorry but I…” You tightened the grips your fingers held on his jacket. You pressed yourself against his frame, sighing when you could rest your chin on his shoulder.

His arm slipped around you and squeezed. “What is it, darling?”

“I wanted him to know you.” Your voice was so soft you weren’t even sure he heard you. “I wanted him to know the real you and the only time you’re ever honest is when…”

A shiver ran through him, a tremble that tightened his hold. “Who? Who did you give it to?”

“Connor.” You sank your teeth into your lip.

Haytham sucked down a breath of air that sounded like a mix between a gasp and a painful sob. His breathing was shallow, chest rising quickly with your own. His hold on you all but vanished as he moved back towards his desk. He tapped his fingers onto its surface as he was trying to organize his thoughts.

“You need to get to know him.” You wrapped your arms around yourself against the cold and the loss of his touch. “I need you to know him. He’s your son.”

“An Assassin,” he retorted.

“Don’t you dare,” you hissed. “I know you’re true feelings. You need this. And he doesn’t know the whole story. He’s only getting half of what’s happening.”

He pressed a hand against his face before dropping down into his chair.

You trailed over, each step slow and gentle until you reached him. You carefully sat down in his lap, curling into his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry for not getting permission. I knew you would be against it.”

“Ah, so you chose to do it all the same.” He scoffed but his arms embraced you tenderly. “I suppose this isn’t the worse news I’ve received on my birthday.”

You pressed your smile into his neck. “Can we have dinner now?”

He gave a moan of approval. “Yes, my dear. Lead the way.”

You took a moment to enjoy his warmth, the peppery aroma that clung to his skin, the subtle sweetness of vanilla beneath it all. You got to your feet before you pressing a soft and chaste kiss against his lips.

The corners of his mouth curled. “You are too good to me.”

You gave a crooked smile before sauntering towards the doorway. “I know.”

He huffed at that just as a muffled knock rattled against the front door. His brows pinched as he got to his feet, leisurely making his way over as you opened the door. He stilled in the den’s doorway, eyes locked on the features of his son. His breath even caught in his throat as he peered over at you.

“Connor,” you smiled sweetly, motioning him inside. “We were just about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?”

He lifted the leather bound journal into view. “I read it as you asked.”

Your words were softer, a nervousness that churned inside of your stomach. “And your thoughts on it?”

His grip tightened on the journal but not out of anger. There was no anger in him. It was the tightening hold of a man who held a memento of his father. “I am… uncertain.”

Haytham cleared his throat, hands tucked neatly behind him as he swaggered forward. “You should join us. There will be far more than the two of us can eat on our own. It would be… a waste, otherwise.”

You rolled your eyes. “What Haytham is poorly trying to say is… Please, stay.”

Connor glanced at the journal in his grasp before giving a minor nod.

Your heart raced as you motioned him inside, leading the way to the dining room. “Haytham has been working most of the day and I only just got the food on the table. It’s still warm, I hope.”

“Thank you. It has been some time since I’ve enjoyed a warm meal.” Connor followed at your heels impatiently, the instincts of an Assassin itching to life. You held those same instincts most of the time. He finally stepped ahead of you and examined the space with sharp alertness.

Haytham stopped you before you could follow him. His large hands cupped each side of your face and pressed your lips against his. He pulled away and muttered weakly, “What have you done?”

You whispered quite proudly, “What you could not do yourself.”

Connor cleared his throat, not at all pleased at the shows of affection. He was already sitting down at the table with a glower that looked all too much like Haytham’s. “Should I begin without you? Because… I already have.”

You laughed and walked towards the table. Very much like Haytham’s sass, as well.

“Well,” Haytham sighed as he took his seat. “Let us eat then.”


	22. The Order's Charms: Altair/Ezio/Arno/Connor/Jacob x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to The Order's Finest  
> Sexual Content: PWP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to get written and... I'm not even sure if my editing was any good or not XD; But... it's done, finally!

Hard labor, he said. Punishment for reckless endangerment. As if pushing an Initiate off of a building was in anyway reckless. “Practical practice for real world situations,” you reasoned. Templars weren’t going to wait for recruits to get over their fear of heights. But your superior wasn’t having it.

Hard labor, you groaned, hardly understanding how that was supposed to deter you from your actions. If anything it would only make you bitter.

You took a horse out to the location of one of the outer lying towns. It had been attacked and the Order was given the lovely little task of cleaning the place up again. Burned down homes needed to be cleared away and others needed to be rebuilt. It was a job given to much lower ranking recruits but your mentor thought it best to use it as a punishment for “mouthy and disrespectful” students instead.

You left your horse at the stables, finding that there were quite a few other horses already housed inside. You almost groaned at the idea of having to work with Assassin of lesser rank. They always tried to appear “wiser” and “more skilled” than you. And knowing you were in trouble, for the hundredth time, they’d be even more eager to prove it.

You could hear the sounds of hammers whacking against metal and wood. Something heavy was thrown down and an irritated voice shouted, “You’re the blokes who got me in this mess!”

You followed the path towards the noise, hardly eager to see what the fuss was about. You rounded the corner and found a group working on rebuilding one of the houses. Your brows jolted high. Your mouth fell open, words forming as you tried to process the scene. The other horses at the stables hadn’t belonged to lower recruits. In fact, they belonged to some of the more well respected Assassins in the entire Order.

All of them were sweaty and shirtless, baked by the high noon sun. All but Arno, that is. He was sauntering over towards a workbench and tugging his shirt over his head, tossing the offending article aside. “To be fair, it was Ezio who got us into this mess.”

Jacob, the rowdiest but well accomplished Assassin from England who had only just arrived, had been the one to shout. He was staring straight at Ezio whose palms were thrown up in surrender.

Connor stood by the house door with hunched shoulders. His arms were folded over his chest and his gaze was burning into the floor with a mixture of anger and guilt. Altair was hammering away on the house wall, brows pinched as he put his anger into each swing.

You lifted your chin and swaggered over to the group. “The Order’s Finest,” you teased. “Don’t tell me you boys got caught doing something considered wholly inappropriate?”

Altair stopped mid-swing, his head turning to take in the sight of you, a mixture of shock and delight subtly touching his features.

“Mia bella!” Ezio lifted his arms out with a wide, delighted his smile. “What are you doing here?”

You huffed, recalling the reason clearly. “The real question is why you boys are here.”

Arno’s skin was laced with sweat as he combed his fingers through his slightly drenched hair, raking back the long and messy strands. “Ezio thought it would be glorious to sneak into the women’s bathhouse yesterday.”

Jacob growled lowly, “Caught in the act, as it were.”

Ezio threw his hands to his chest. “It would have worked had it been any other day. Besides, I knew you were there. I saw you step inside.”

You ducked your head away and pressed your smile into your hand. “You tried sneaking into the women’s side and you got caught? Not very good at sneaking I see.” You shook your head mildly then glanced up at Connor and Altair who had been rather quiet. Altair couldn’t take his eyes off of you, something needy flickering in them, and Connor couldn’t look at you for longer than a second.

“Now that you're here with us,” reasoned Ezio with a raised hand. “We can perhaps continue what occurred last time.”

Your breathing all but tangled inside of your chest. “Here? Now?”

Arno sauntered forward, the sunlight glistening off of his sweaty skin. His cheeks were even tinged with pink from the long days labor. “Mon Amie, don't tell me you're against it.”

“Well…” You teasingly gave a quirk of your lips, a toss of your head as if you had to consider the notion better. “I don't know. I'm supposed to be participating in some sort of hard labor to better myself.”

Ezio swaggered forward, rotating his hips to draw your attention as he walked. “I can think of no finer labor,” he cooed, stepping behind you until he could place his hands onto your hips and his mouth to your ear. “It will certainly be hard.”

Your throat dried at the notion. “Oh? Can you be so certain?”

The heat of his mouth trailed down from your ear to the bend of your neck where he began to tenderly suckle. His tongue swept longingly over the skin, sending chills down your spine and between your thighs where Ezio's hand was already beginning to explore.

Altair gave a low growl, an order, “Ezio.” His stare was fierce, a heavy and intense anger burning in them. “You went first last time.”

The Italian gave a groan before resting his chin on your shoulder. “It seems only fair that I go first again, yes?”

Altair began hammering again, somehow more brutal than before, “Connor and Jacob shall go first this time.”

Jacob flinched, brows rising. “Go first at what?”

Connor perked up a bit but his hands were held lightly before him, as if he hadn’t quite expected the turn of events. “But where would we do this?”

“Do what exactly?” Jacob was weaving his gaze between everyone, desperately trying to find some answers about what was going on. “What am I doing?”

“That first house we saw,” Arno added all too eagerly, “I saw that it was furnished.”

Jacob was sucking down a deep breath. “You mean all of us… with her?” He seemed disconcerted at first, shocked even, then he tossed the idea around. His deep consideration was well displayed across his expression, the notion slowly becoming more appealing.

Ezio pressed a firm grin against your cheek. “She can handle us.”

Arno sounded breathy already, as if the notion alone was tightening his need, “It is why we snuck into the bathhouse, after all.”

“Ezio,” added Altair casually. “Did you bring lubricant?”

He moaned, his chest vibrating against your spine and down to the base of your arse. “Of course I brought some. I’ve been hoping for this moment.”

You shuddered down a breath of air, laced with the animalic musks and sweat that was Ezio. You turned your head until you could look into his eyes, his hot breath caressing your lips. You remembered those lips from last time, the way they’d worked so skilly against you.

Altair haphazardly tossed down his hammer and stalked the dirt paths towards the house. “Connor will take her first.”

Ezio didn't seem quite so pleased, especially not when Connor approached and gently took hold of your hand. Despite how gentle Connor was being, you recalled rather clearly the roughness and lust that had assaulted him during your last encounter. It was that thought alone, the thought of Connor’s bruising grip, that made your stomach twirl.

Arno was close at his heels, Jacob lagging uncertainly behind everyone else.

You stepped into the small home, a simple but practical shelter with just as simple furnishings. “I don’t suppose we’re going to do this on the floor.”

“We have before,” Connor huskily spoke as he towered over you, his mouth dipping towards the base of your neck.

Jacob lingered in the doorway with uneasiness. Altair eyed his wariness, processed something before stating firmly, “Connor get undressed and lie down. Ezio will begin preparing her. Jacob and I shall wait.”

Arno raised a brow. “And I?”

“Undress her for now.” Altair used his foot to shove a coffee table across the living room, opening up the space for everything that was about to happen. He cockily sat down in the center of the couch, arms thrown up across its back and legs open wide. “Connor.” He motioned towards the clear floor, waiting for the man to rid himself of what little clothes he had on.

Arno approached slowly, his hands barely touching you for longer than a moment as he hovered over your shoulders and down your arms. “Mon amie.” His lids drooped over his eyes, a raw lust hindering his ability to focus. “We have missed you more than you know.” His lips began to hover over yours, teasing as they momentarily brushed.

You were impatient, snapping hold of his neck and smashing your mouth into his. It was a forceful and heady kiss, sloppy and desperate as you deepened it the longer it lasted. Arno tasted of sweet and tart wine, a flavor your tongue couldn’t get enough of. Your teeth scraped across his lips and tongue, nose shoved roughly into the other.

Someone cleared their throat, Ezio you think as you opened your eyes to see him glaring, already standing naked in the center of the room. “I believe it was Connor who was going first.”

Arno had to pry himself away to catch his breath, chuckling and groaning. He no longer teased, hurriedly divesting you of your tunic and shirt as you toed off your boots. Arno kneeled down, his fingers tugging at your breeches and every now and then they would intentionally brush across the blooming heat that pooled heavily in your lower body.

Ezio stalked across the room, his jutting erection catching your eye as his hips dramatically swayed. “Connor is ready. And so am I, mia bella.”

You tossed your attention away from them, finding Jacob’s intense stare as he stood in the doorway. His body was rigid. His arms were folded across his chest, tensing as if he had to forcefully keep himself from marching over and grabbing hold of you. He looked as if he’d fuck you right then and there.

You licked your lips just as Ezio’s naked skin encased your backside. You almost released a loud groan, your eyes sliding shut to enjoy the tender touches of both men.

Arno tugged you breeches off, the last of your clothes, his hot breath barely caressing your clit. “Impatient as always, Ezio,” he chided. The edge of his lips twitched into a proud smirk. He delved the tip of his finger across your opening, drawing a needy hiss from you. “Already wet, mon amie. And we’ve hardly done a thing.”

The Italian gave a low moan, guiding you around the couch where Altair sat waiting towards Connor’s large body sprawled out on the floor. The Native clenched his eyes shut when he finally saw you, a hand reaching up to roughly grip the dark strands of his hair. His other hand slid downwards across the sculpted muscle of his body, reaching the hard and throbbing length of his cock.

You stepped over him before kneeling down, straddling the broadness of his chest. That action alone caused his chest to rise sharply, a groan strangled as he gasped. You whispered his name lightly and when his eyes shot open to lock with yours, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

When Connor took hold of your face, his large and calloused hands enveloped every inch. He pressed a few gentle and brief kisses onto each corner of your mouth. He was being softer this time, not quite as rough as you remembered.

Ezio made his way around to stand before you and over Connor, a jar of something in his hand. “Turn around, mia bella. I’ll begin when Arno gets over here.”

Connor’s hands fell away and his eyes locked onto the ceiling. “Quickly. I need her now.”

You giggled at the bluntness as he spoke. You turned around on his chest, finding that his knees were up and his feet were planted firmly into the floor. It was difficult to resist when your eyes caught sight of his erection. You found yourself palming the hard muscle of his cock, brushing your finger over his glistening tip. His hips jerked and the erection twitched with the sudden flare of desire.

Ezio chuckled as he kneeled down and fit himself behind you. “Do not tease him too much. He likes to bite and I am the one closest to his mouth.”

You grinned haughtily before lowering your mouth and sweeping your tongue across Connor’s tip. It was a harsh and pungent taste but the growl he released made it all the more worth it. He couldn’t see what you were doing, not with Ezio’s broad body blocking the view, which made him all the more tense.

Arno strolled around the couch, both hands nervously brushing back his hair as he kneeled down between Connor’s parted knees. “You should begin soon, Ezio. She’s more than ready to take him in.”

You heard the jar being opened and as you glanced over at him, Ezio was delving his fingers into the slightly thick oil. He lifted his gaze to you, smoldering through his dark lashes as if he could read the emotions that were flopping through you. He set the jar aside and smeared the glistening oil between his fingers.

Arno got your attention by taking hold of your hips. “Knees down Connor. I shall support her.”

He obliged, shifting his weight beneath the two bodies over him. “Please. Soon. I do not think I can wait for much longer.” His trembling was evident and the beads of sweat across his skin told you that he’d fuck you hard into the floor if they weren’t in the way.

“Mon amie.” Arno tugged at your hips ever so slightly, encouraging you to move further down the Native’s wide body. “Are you ready for Ezio?”

You posted your knees into the hard floor, bone against wood, as your opening wavered over Connor’s thick length. You looked over your shoulder when Ezio’s hand moved to your backside. His fingertips touched the base of your spine, warm oil sleek against your skin when he dipped them lower between your cheeks.

You drew in your bottom lip, quivering from the unfamiliar sensation as Ezio moved over the tight bundle of muscle. If Arno hadn’t moved forward, pressed his body to yours, you might have buckled over. “Yes,” you breathily replied, nodding your head in case they hadn’t heard you.

Ezio pushed a finger inside, working against the tightness of your body as he stretched your arse. He slipped out, your body eager to be rid of the foreign object but then it returned with slow probing motions, squeezing its way deeper inside. You weren’t sure why or how but his tantalizing motions heated other parts of your body.

“Look at me, mon amie.” Arno caressed a hand up along your neck, towards your chin until your eyes met the soothing amber of his. “Ezio knows what he is doing. The more you relax the better it’ll feel.”

A moan broke from your throat when his finger curled inside of you. You pressed your forehead into Arno’s, eyes clenching shut as the nerves in your back coiled. You clutched his shoulders for better support, squeezing the firm muscle when a jolt of delight crawled up your back.

Arno took that moment to slide the rough skin of his hand between your thighs. “You're ready,” he whispered, gripping hold of Connor’s cock and pressing the tip to your entrance. His words never rose above a gentle whisper, a sweet kindness in them as he requested, “Take him slowly. Relax and I’ll pleasure you.”

You tried to sink yourself further down the length but Ezio’s finger sliding in and out made it hard to concentrate. The nerves in your cunt convulsed, knotting the muscles in your legs until your hips bucked. Connor felt the sensation, his own hips jerking off the floor until his length was fully encased by the wetness of your walls. He slipped halfway out when his hips fell back to the floor.

“Slowly,” Arno gently reminded, helping you impale yourself on the swollen muscle. His hands were fluttery and light, moving up and down the soft skin of your back. “Ezio?”

“She is handling herself well.” His fingers slid out, rubbing over the fiery warmth that seared the bunched skin, soothing it with caressing motions. “It is Connor that worries me. His nails are digging into my thigh.”

Arno chuckled, burying the sound against the skin of your neck. He pressed open mouth kissing along your throat, each one easing your head back further into his supportive hand.

“Arno,” you moaned when Ezio eased two fingers into your still tight body, your muscles clenching from the unfamiliar sensation.

“Fuck,” rasped Jacob, his voice sounding hoarse. And when you searched for him, you found him strangling the back of a chair. His head was bowed over and his body rocked with impatient need.

Altair still sat unflinching, expression hardened from practice but you could see his lust beneath it all. His arms were posted outwards on the back of the couch, hands balled into fists, clenching and unclenching to stave off desire. It was his fixed, hungry stare that sent a shiver across your form.

You’d been so distracted by them you hadn’t felt Ezio add a third finger or Connor’s thrusting hips as he tried building up some amount of friction. Your head fell forward, resting on Arno’s broad shoulder but this only gave you a small view of Connor’s cock as it disappeared inside of your opening.

You moaned, thighs clenched as the knotting orgams convulsed, your hips rolling forward and locking tight. Your cum spilled with his and it leaked hotly down the sides of your inner thighs. Connor gave a few more mindless and heady thrusts until he stilled beneath you.

Ezio’s thick fingers pulled out, the muscles in your backside easing with relief. “She is ready.” You could hear his fingers dipping into the thick lubricant, the smacking sound as he gathered it in his hands.

Connor’s softening erection pulled out of you as he set up, skin flushed with heat and sweat. He trembled feverishly, getting to his feet and pressing a kiss into your damp hair. “Thank you.” He stepped away, pacing across the living room where he posted himself by the window.

You pressed your cheek into Arno’s shoulder, watching as Ezio grabbed his length. He spread the gel, pumping his hand along his reddening erection in quick, rapid strokes until he was slick. He moved forward and pressed the hardness of his chest into your spine, erection still resting in his palm.

“Do not worry, mon amie.” His hand at your back moved to your front, careening down your stomach until he found the heat of your clit. “Relax. Let us do the work.” His fingers flicked over the pulsing bud, smearing your wetness across it in preparation for his teasing.

“Arno?” Ezio waited for the Assassin’s nod, waited for him to wrap his arms around you. His hands grabbed your arse, the searing hot tip pushing against the raw and sore entrance.

Your arms grappled around Arno, the thickness of Ezio’s size causing your breath to hitch. You dug your nails down across his neck, your other hand tugging at his hair. You stifled back a whimper when Ezio slowly went deeper, your body resisting naturally against him.

Jacob breathily blurted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was sitting down now, teeth sinking into the bones of his knuckles. He gave low growls as he moved to the edge of the chair, teetering forward with hazy lust.

Arno tensed, trying to focus as his fingers rubbed fervently against your clit. But his movements were sloppy, never getting purchase and unable to distract you. He gave up, focusing instead on what he really needed. His red hot erection barely caressed your entrance and your body convulsed. He glided through your moistened walls, filled with your cum as well as Connor’s, finding no resistance until he was down to the hilt.

Your legs trembled, quivered until Arno and Ezio’s hard bodies were the only things keeping you from sinking to the floor. Your aching knees found relief when you pulled them off the hard floor and wrapped your legs around Arno’s waist.

Arno forced himself to release a slow breath. He began gradual deep thrusts, a stark contrast to Ezio’s shallow and pounding rhythm. They rocked and swayed against you, forcing your feverish body back and forth between them. Their hands roamed across your body and each other but your thoughts were too hazy to care.

Your fingers curled against the pliant skin beneath them. You couldn’t stop the waves of fire that licked across your muscles and hollowed out your bones. Or the scream of ecstasy that ruptured from your throat. Your strangling hold on Arno loosened from post orgamic bliss, the heat of your cum seeping out with each involuntary jerk of his hips.

Ezio pulled out to the tip, the last of his orgasm coating your inner walls. He pressed a sweaty forehead against the nape of your neck, a thin rivulet streaming between your shoulder blades. “Oh, mia bella, I have missed you.”

Arno’s arms, shaky as they were, held you against him as he eased down to sit on the floor. He rubbed gentle circles into your back, whispering, “Rest, mon amie. Take a small break.”

Ezio stood up and left your whole backside cold. You heard his feet walk across the floor as he moved towards a chair and fell back into it. His hand smeared the sweat from his face into his messy hair.

You pulled away from Arno, brushing your lips across his before leaning back. You lifted yourself off of his lap, the softened erection falling out. He helped your boneless body lie down onto the cold wooden floor. Your breathing was ragged and it was laced with the pungent scents of sweat and sex.

You rolled your gaze over towards Altair on the couch, his gaze hungry as he watched your heaving chest. He must have unlaced his breeches during the scene. They were tugged open and his erection was painfully swollen. His fists were clenches, knuckles turning white as he waited with anticipation.

Altair leaned forward. He calmly took hold of the jar and delved his fingers into the sticky cream. He set the jar back down and fondled with the substance until finally bringing it to the reddened muscle. He watched your expression while he palmed his length, fingers wrapping and tugging until it was glistening.

Arno barely managed to stand, his legs shaky beneath him. He stood over you, gathered your hand with his and helped you weakly stand. “Easy, mon amie. Do you need another moment?”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and shook your head. “I’m ready.” Speaking those words caused a heat to pool low in your core. Your body wasn’t sated despite the pleasures it had received. It longed for Altair’s touch, especially after the small show he’d given.

Arno guided you back towards Altair and before he could help you sit down, Altair’s hands took hold of your hips and pulled. You fell gracelessly into his arms, a nervous laugh jolting free especially when his mouth slipped over your shoulder. His tongue swept across your skin, tasting the salt that gathered there.

“Jacob,” Altair growled, flicking his attention towards the rigid Brit. “Pants off.” He turned his efforts towards your body, fixing your hips until they rested against his.

You squirmed playfully over the hard heat, tossing him a smirk over your shoulder.

His hissed, hands parting your thighs apart until your entrance was exposed to the cold air. “You will be still.”

You whispered it, “Make me.”

His hand moved down across your moistened folds, further to your tight and aching arse. “Ezio obviously didn’t do it roughly enough. I’ll remedy that.”

Your breathing quickened but you made no retort. Jacob stood naked before you, the dark curls of hair along his navel leading your eyes down to his strained cock. You squirmed again, your attention sweeping up to find his brows caved beneath a pleading need. He was more than eager to begin.

The words fumbled from your lips, “Oh, god.”

Altair shifted on the couch, leaning back until you were both stretched out along it. His hands moved to the soft flesh of your backside, parting you until he could push the tip of his heat against your arse. Your hands moved fervently, finding anything to grip onto while his cock impaled you. You reached back and curled your fingers into his hair, tugging encouragingly at it.

Jacob began to kneel between yours and Altair’s parted legs. Your reached a hand out and gripped what little of hips you could. He moaned at the small touch, his desperation for you having grown during the intense scenes that played out before him. He arched forward, his rough hand taking your jaw and his mouth forcefully capturing your own. His tongue delved deeper. You swallowed his moan, whimpering in reply. Your hand snapped hold of the back of his neck to pull him closer.

Altair’s large hand distracted you. He lifted your lower half off of his lap and slid his length partly the way out. He lowered you slowly which drew a deep throated groan from him, his erection forced back inside of you.

Jacob couldn’t resist anymore, his kiss unrelenting as he shoved his hips forward, pushing his searing cock into your aching walls. You gasped, your head turning away from his hungry lips. He dropped his full weight, pinning you against Altair. He swayed his body forward and grunted, hands squeezing your thighs. He tugged them until they were pulled up around waist, deepening the angle of his thrusts.

You locked your ankles and pinned Jacob against the sensitive and pulsing clit. You writhed between their feverish bodies, unable to choose if you wanted to buck forward against Jacob or sink further down onto Altair.

Altair’s hands moved upwards along your body, following the curves of your waist and ribs. His palms rubbed over your breasts and hardening nipples. He gave them a few squeezes in time with the jerking of his hips. He kept shoving upward, pushing you harder against Jacob and smacking skin against skin.

Jacob rocked back and forth, trying to match Altair’s senseless rhythm. He gave a low growl, fingerbones digging harshly into your legs. He was desperate for friction, a desperation that you could see in his parted lips and quivering brow.

“Mio dio,” hissed Ezio as he slunk further down in his chair.

Your hips rolled up to meet Jacob in his next thrust, your body responding eagerly to the touch. Another orgasm knotted the muscles of your legs all the way down to curling your toes. You clenched your jaws as your hips rubbed roughly against him for another pulse of pleasure.

Jacob readily followed behind you, cum spilling but his hips kept pounding until another orgasm convulsed through you. Finally his body collapsed on top of you. He took down a few ragged breaths. Your body eased down onto Altair, sinking the rest of the way onto his cock. His chest rose as a breath bundled in his lungs. The heat of his cum spread warmly inside of you, leaking out to coat your back with the sticky fluid.

Connor stepped into view. You were too weak look around for the others. “She needs to rest,” he told Jacob, helping ease the man up onto his knees.

Jacob limply sat down, back pressed into the couch’s arm. “I can see now why you wanted to find her again.”

Connor moved over to you, his hair neatly combed back and his skin no longer flushed as it had been earlier. He gathered your languid body into his arms, pressing you into his chest. He hauled you through the living room towards the stairs.

You pressed your cheek against the taut muscle of his arm, breathed in the earthy and smoky scents that clung to his skin. You slipped your eyes closed and allowed him to carry you to a bed. He settled you against it with the gentlest of ease.

“Mia bella,” Ezio spoke softly. He held a bowl in his arms, strolling to the other side of the bed. He set it down onto the small bedside table and lifted the cloth from the water. He wrung it out before moving closer to you.

“She needs wine. Don’t you, mon amie?” He lifted the dark bottle into view, sloshing the contents in wait for your approval.

Connor gave a low groan as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “She needs to rest.”

“After a bath,” excused Ezio. He slid the warm cloth down across the skin, rippling goosebumps everywhere it touched. “She can hardly sleep with… us all over her.”

Your lips tugged into a smile. “I don’t know. I think I could sleep pretty well with you all around me.”

Altair joined Arno in the doorway, his stony gaze falling on you after seemingly seeking you out. “Jacob is searching for food as we speak.”

He padded across the floor and slid up the foot of the bed. “Shall I pour a glass?” He raised an inquisitive and playful brow. “There’s plenty more.”

You lifted your hand, ready to take it once he filled it. You tried to sit up on your own but the muscles in your abdomen felt bruised. Connor was eager to help, posting himself behind you and letting your weight rest against him. Arno lifted the glass to your lips, carefully allowing you to sip on the delightful drink.

You moaned in approval, closing your eyes to enjoy the calmness of the moment. Ezio seemed to have a similar idea. He tossed the rag with the bowl and eased back onto the bed, hands thrown up behind his head.

“We will need to finish the day’s work before heading back.” Altair sat down towards the end of the bed, placing your foot into his lap. His fingers, long and nimble, massage the tender muscles. He kneaded the base of your foot and worked up along your calf muscle.

Ezio gave a heavy sigh. “If we don’t finish today… there is always tomorrow.” He swept his attention towards you, hinting slyly at what might really happen tomorrow.

Jacob marched into the room with a plate in hand. “Meats. Cheese. Not much but…” He shrugged his shoulder and set it down in the middle of the group. He pointed a finger towards Arno. “Where’d you get the wine?”

Arno took a sip from the glass, savoring it before replying, “The cellar.”

He didn’t seem all that surprised as he sat down, squeezing himself between Arno and Altair. He stretched out across the bed until he could place his head onto the softness of your stomach. He released a long sigh before sliding his eyes closed.

You chuckled before allowing yourself to doze off into a delicate bliss, their presence giving you a much needed comfort.


	23. The Venture: Jacob Frye x Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacob has gone missing and you forced to track him down.

You pulled the hood further over your features and quickened your steps, boots splashing in the shallow puddles that always seemed to keep the cobblestone slick and shimmering. The night was dark but the oil lamps chased back some of the shadows, casting the dilapidated buildings in flickers of yellow hues. There had been just enough places to hide in so that your prey hadn’t heard nor seen you approach.

Your heart clenched tight the moment you reached out around his head and cupped a hand over his mouth. His initial fear caused him to struggle but the moment you pressed the blade to his throat he stilled with realization.

“Jacob Frye,” you nearly growled the name. “Where is he?” You moved the force of your grasp down to his throat, feeling it bob as he swallowed painfully the tension that overwhelmed him.

His words were muffled by anxiety, “I haven't seen nothing, miss. Heard about it though. Said they caught him down in a gambling den and cornered him.” He shuddered at that, a sudden fear that crossed his mind. He betrayed his people. He just gave away important secrets and now his life was forever endanger. “That's all I know. I swear it.”

Your tone darkened, coated with acidic impatience, “They caught him in the gambling den. He's not there anymore. I want to know where he is now.” You cleared that den, killed anyone and everyone who got in your way. Jacob hadn't been there.

He nearly whimpered when the icy metal of your dagger pressed harder. “Hold up in one of the buildings by the Thames, I think. Southwark. I think it was definitely Southwark.”

You dropped your hold away and shoved him roughly into the closest building, his skull cracking against the stonework. He staggered wildly from one foot to the next until he was scurrying deep into the darkness of the closest alley. You should have killed him but you were certain he was more afraid of you than anything else.

You hurried to Southwark. You knew exactly where the Templars had set up shop. In fact, you had that place memorised like the back of your hand. So, when you showed up on their rooftop, it was no surprise that you eliminated half of their men within a matter of minutes. The outside of the building, every Blighter and Templar in the area, was dead.

You slipped through an open window, trudged up the steps to where they often held prisoners. You were ready for another fight, to kill any guards posted to keep watch over the youth, but instead all you found were bloodied and beaten Templars littering the floor.

He stood at the center of the bloody mess while fixing his gauntlet and glove. Jacob peered up at you, his lips widening into a delighted smile at the sight you. “What took you so long, love? You missed all the fun parts.”

How dare he smirk at you? How dare he be happily unscathed after all the trouble you'd gone through? Your brows pinched and your lips distorted into a scowl. “Frye!” You marched forward, anger reverberating with each step. “I've searched half of London for you!”

He threw out his hands and lifted his shoulders. “And you've managed to find me.” He gave a shake of his head with mock pity. “Took you a few days though. That's a bit disappointing.”

You clenched your jaws and stood your ground, your fury inch away from him. “What were you thinking? You went into a Blighter owned gambling den! You walked right into there and risked your life.”

Jacob had the audacity to wink at you. “I did, indeed. And look where it led me!”

You were shocked and suddenly a low growl made its way through your seething teeth. You rushed him, shoved him hard into the closest thing which was a desk. “You planned this? I worried for you! I searched for you! I thought you were dead!”

Jacob's humor softened but you were already pacing away from him. He reached out and grappled hold of your hand as well as your rage. “Didn’t mean to make you worry. Can you forgive me?”

You snatched your hand from his, too bitter to do much of anything else. “No,” you hissed, too nervous to speak it any other way. You could feel your throat cave and you knew that if you spoke anything else your voice would crack. You whispered harshly, “Everyone outside is already dead. I'm heading back to the train.”

Jacob followed close behind as you clamoured down the set of stairs to the bottom floor. He finally caught up with you and when you stepped outside into the frigid early morning, he dared himself to take your hand again. “Hold on, please. Wait a moment.”

Your body stiffened, eyes glazed over as you stared at the bleak gray of London city. “Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”

Jacob’s hold on your hand wavered, trembled a bit before squeezing. “I didn’t know, little sparrow. I didn’t think you’d care. I thought…” He gave a huffed and stepped forward, boots crunching against dirt and grit.

You stomach felt knotted and your skin laced with a chilled sweat. You felt sick from the release of adrenaline. You truly thought he had died. You shivered and hunched your shoulders up around you. “It’s already forgotten.”

“Cold, love?” Jacob’s arms encased you, tightening until your back pressed into his chest before swaying playfully. “I can hold you for a bit and keep you warm.”

You huffed, trying to remain bitter about everything but… You melted in his embrace. You clenched your eyes shut, the hot tears streaming down your frosty cheeks. “If you ever do that again…”

Jacob nuzzled his chin against the bend of your shoulder. “I won't, love. I won't.”

You slipped your hand beneath his, fingers delighting to have his tangle with your own.


	24. Plans: Jacob Frye x Reader

You stood at the top of the grand staircase, heart hammering and eyes widening when you realized that everyone gathered together at the party was still very much awake. You couldn’t understand it. The grenades that Alec gave you definitely should have worked. You went over the schematics with Alec and Evie twice and the layout of the building with Jacob a dozen times or more.

One of the ladies at the party gasped, drawing everyone’s attention as she shouted, “Guards! There are intruders!”

You spun from the stairs and stalked past Jacob. “They should have been asleep.”

“Don’t look at me. This was your idea.” Jacob was all too pleased with himself, smugly smirking about the whole situation. He was usually the one who came up with the terrible plans that of course ended all too terribly. And you were usually the one who got to say “I told you so”.

“I don’t understand…” Your steps quickened to reach the next staircase that led towards the floor above. You couldn’t see the sleeping gas which meant the grenades hadn’t released their chemicals yet. “Unless, you didn’t set the timer. God, Jacob, please tell me you set the timers!”

“Course I did. Definitely. Maybe?” He gave a huff, shocked at the suggestion. “No, I definitely set them just how you showed me. You just got it wrong and can’t admit it.”

You reached the base of the steps and threw him a glare. “Or, like usual, you mucked it all up.” But you swallowed your words when you watched the thick cloud of gas roll lazily down the steps. Your eyes narrowed, peering over at his haughty grin. “Not a word, Frye.”

He gave a slight tilt of his head, brows rising and smirk deepening. “You owe me an apology.”

The guards clamored from the lower level which drew both Jacob’s and your attention. You rushed to the closest window and shoved it open. “I’ll apologize later. Right now, we need to get out of reach of the smoke. Or we’ll end up unconscious with the rest of the household.”

He leaned his shoulder into the wall, hands clasped while he watched you throw your legs out the window. “Is it truly so difficult to just say sorry.”

“Shut up and get out here.” You reached up and pulled your weight higher along the outer walls of the mansion. You took a quick glance down just to make sure Jacob made it out of the window without further complications. You couldn’t even count the number of times he made something explode prematurely or get himself surrounded inconveniently by a patrol of guards.

You hauled your weight over the ledge of the roof and rolled until your spine was against its surface. You released a heavy breath of air and cursed yourself for the bad timing. The guards likely alerted the party goers to evacuate. And there went the entire plan altogether.

Jacob chuckled delightedly, sitting all too gingerly on the edge of the rooftop.

“Don’t even,” you spat. “I swear, Frye, if you tell anyone about this.”

“Wouldn’t dare.” He tilted his head away but the corner of his mouth curled gently into a sly smirk. “After drinking out at the pub, though, can’t promise I won’t blurt anything.”

You gave a low growl and kicked the heel of your boot into his shoulder.

He laughed harder and shoved your foot away. “Oi! I believe you owe me an apology.”

“Not happening.” You nudged your chin at him with a huff and closed your eyes. “You’ve had worse plans--” You gasped when the heat of his hand encased your hip.

Jacob was already leaning over you, hands moving down along your thighs and his mouth hovered over yours. He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, tongue sweeping across it until it was glistening. His eyes were lidded, attention roving down along your expression to seek out either acceptance or denial.

You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped. You muttered it, somewhat breathy, “I’m… not sorry.” Your lips pulled into a wide toothy smile just as Jacob began to laugh.

His forehead dropped down against your shoulder, his chest shaking from his fading chuckle. He gave a light moan before easing his full weight down onto you, bury himself against your form. “Stubborn.”

You released a contented breath, fingers brushing through the thick tresses of his hair. “I guess I’ll be the one to tell Evie my plan failed.”

“Or.” Jacob raised his head with a cheeky grin. “We could head to the pub and get besotted before ever even go near her.”

“She’ll kill us…”

“At least then we’ll be too drunk to care.” Jacob jumped to his feet and pulled you up with him. “And since you can’t apologize properly, you owe me a drink.”

“Apologize? I bet you set the timers wrong.”

He gave a mocked gasp. “It’s painful to admit you’re wrong, isn’t it?”

“Shut up and get us to the pub, Frye.”


	25. Distracted: Edward Kenway x Reader

You could hear the tumblers, felt the pieces of metal creak and jolt beneath the teasing of your lock pick. It was Edward who was making the whole ordeal nearly impossible. He went from watching you to running fingers down your shoulder to finally dipping his mouth down to kiss your ear.

“I’m trying to pick a lock.” You carefully focused on twisting the metal deeper, your brows quivering and your bottom lip rolling into your mouth. “You mind not distracting me?”

“Can you blame me?” Edward kneeled down behind you and gently pushed your hair to the side. “You always get this cute expression when you're trying to focus.” His lips found the bend of your neck, moist heat enveloping your skin as he sucked.

You gave up with a groan, both delighted and annoyed. “If you want this damn treasure, you’ll stop long enough for me to open the door.”

He pressed the heat of his mouth to your jaw. “Can’t I have both? One now. The other later.”

You couldn't stop your abrupt chuckle quickly enough. “And which is which exactly?”

Edward’s swollen lips quivered to reply but the doors swung open. You both shot the robed stranger a startled look, taking a moment to absorb having been caught. You leapt first, knocking the man to the ground as Edward scrambled to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Edward…” Your attention swept over the room and the gathering of robed individuals that stood around a candle littered table. “Who was that contact of yours again?”

Edward’s brow climbed his forehead as he took in the sight. “We should probably run, love.”

You pushed yourself up off the ground just as Edward was jumping to his feet. His hand snagged yours as he raced off towards the way you both entered the building. You looked back down the hall just in case they might have followed. “Were they sacrificing a goat or did I completely misunderstand that?”

“Just…” Edward looked over his shoulder as well. “Just keep running, love.”

“So much for that treasure.” You flashed him a smile before looking ahead.

He gave a hum of approval. “I still have one…”


	26. The Archives: Evie Frye x Reader

You climbed six floors, avoided patrols of guards, snuck up behind a few and incapacitated them, traveled through a labyrinth of bookshelves and artifacts, only to find the man you were looking for lying face down on the floor… dead.

“Fuck.” You pressed your forehead into your palm and sashayed towards the window. You shoved it open and tied a red cloth to the handle, securing it before returning to the task ahead. You did the only thing you could do: search through the notes on his desk for clues or hints.

Evie gave a low groan, hopping through the window to the floor below. “What happened?”

“In my defense, he was dead when I got here?” You looked up at her, the candlelight in the room casting her skin with a warm glow. “I hope we had a plan B.”

“The plan is to find the book before anyone else.” She gave a heavy sigh then swaggered from one side of the room to the bookshelves that lined the wall. “But without the archivist… There has to be a million books in here.”

“A book as special as this one?” You continued your search through the desk until you found a false bottom in one of the drawers. “It deserves a special place, yes?” You pried open the plank of wood and found the weathered book resting inside.

Evie gave a surprised laugh, a rich and delightful sound as she hurried over. “Thank god the Templars didn’t find it.”

You gave a hum in agreement while flipping carefully through the stiff tan pages. “It’s in a language I’ve never seen before. We’ll need an expert to translate it for us.” You flicked your gaze at her and then to the opening doors behind her. “Go, Evie. Take the book. I’ll distract them.”

She barely grabbed it when you pressed it into her arms. Her hand snagged yours, eyes meeting for a worried moment. “Be careful.”

Your heart hammered, breath stilling. “Always.”

“Not always…” She wavered, hesitated.

You squeezed her hand. “This time. I promise.”

“You better be.” Evie raced out of the window as a dozen guards weaved their way around bookshelves.

You smirked, tossing a smoke bomb in your palm while they spouted their commands and the charges against you. Breaking and entering, thievery, murder… The usual list.

You gave an overly dramatic sigh, a roll of your eyes. “Sorry, darlings. Can’t stay. I’ve got places to be.” You tossed the bomb when you thought Evie was far enough away from the building and any guards that might try to peruse her. You raced through the estate, daring them to follow after you.


	27. Late Night Strolls: Desmond Miles

It was two in the morning when you woke up. You weren’t sure what it was until you sat up in bed and saw that he was gone. You tossed the blanket aside, trying to ignore the anxiety that clumped in your throat and plagued your mind.

What if they took him? What if Abstergo finally found him and kidnapped him in the night? What if you lost him to the bleeding effect and he was wondering the streets as Ezio Auditore? What if the life of an Assassin was too overwhelming and he finally decided to leave even if that meant never seeing you again?

You saw him in the bathroom long before he sensed your presence. He was rummaging through the medical basket just as he looked at you, the skin around his eye swollen and red, a gash across his brow.

“Des!” You tossed aside anxiety and fear for anger. “What the hell happened? Is that… blood?”

He stepped away from the basket and innocently looked over his clothes, barely reacting to the blood speckled there. “The blood on my shirt….” He gave a cheeky grin. “Uh, would you feel better if I told you it wasn’t mind?”

“Not really.”

He raised his shoulders.

“It’s 2am.” You marched forward and grabbed the basket from him. “Sit down and explain to me how you got a black eye and a bloody shirt.”

He gave a low groan but sat down on the edge of the bathtub without further comaplaints. “I couldn’t sleep. I went for a walk and I…” He tossed his hands as if he were trying to grasp an excuse. “There were these punks harassing this old lady. I might have stepped in and…”

“Another nightmare.” You dampened a wet cloth and carefully dabbed it onto the reddening cut across his brow and temple. You smirked, chiding him, “You should have stayed in bed.” Your anger was gone and even if it story hadn’t been about rescuing the elderly you would have forgiven him. It was impossible to stay mad at him.

He delicately took your hand and pressed his cheek into your palm. “Next time I’ll be sure to stay home and watch late night TV.”

You huffed, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “Good because the next time you come home covered in blood--”

“Covered?” Des gave a delightful chuckle, arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer. “More like… dabbled.”

“I was really worried,” you whispered, words barely audible even to your own ears. “I thought… maybe you left for good.”

He choked on his words, shocked you could even suggest such a thing. “You know I’d never leave. I couldn’t leave you.”

You tossed the rag onto the side of the tub. “No, you just go out every night on late night strolls.”

“Hey.” He playfully shoved. “I apologized, didn’t I?”

You snorted, eyes rolling. “That’s not exactly what an apology sounds like.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I know, babe. I’m sorry. These past few years… I just can’t close my eyes without dreaming about their deaths. Every death I witnessed in the Animus. It just feels so real sometimes.”

You pressed your face into his crown, buried your senses into the soft tufts of his hair. You missed having that smell surround you, missed having it embrace you. “We’ll get through this, Des.”

“I know we will.” He pressed his cheek against your stomach, just as eager to bury himself against you. “We’ve faced far worse.”


	28. Hitman pt2: Altair Ibn-la'ahad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from Hitman

He left the city as quickly as possible and he would have made it over state lines had you not complained about being hungry. And the fact that you hadn’t cleaned your face in days, and there was cut along your forehead that needed washing, and you couldn’t remember the last time you took a shower.

So he stopped at a convenient store and allowed you to sneak off to the bathroom to clean yourself up a bit before strolling about the aisles looking for food. You grabbed every snack imaginable from chips to candy bars, snagging a few sodas for when you got thirsty, and some hand sanitizer because it felt like the bathroom hadn’t exactly washed away all the grime.

He watched in silent annoyance, hood pulled up and arms folded, glowering at each thing you grabbed. You waltzed eagerly over to the clerk, dropping your stash down before beaming delightfully. “Hello.”

The cashier gave a weak smile before taking a quick peek at the man beside you. He rung every item up without further hesitation, likely surprised that he wasn’t at gun point yet. The moment everything was paid for you followed the stoic man out into the parking lot and slid into the passenger seat.

“Satisfied.” He cranked the vehicle and drove back out onto the road.

“Well…” You rolled your head to peer over at him. “Couldn’t we stop for the night? I still need a shower and, God, I’d give anything for a bed to sleep on.”

“You should be glad I didn’t leave you to rot in that basement.” He tilted his head away, the passing streetlights barely giving you a glimpse of his expression and his hood was still pulled up. You didn’t want to test his patience so you kept silent even when he pulled into a motel parking lot. “Stay here. I’ll check in.”

He returned in not time, tossing you the keys to room eight before rounding the vehicle to the trunk. You giddily grabbed your bounty of snacks and raced off to room eight, shoving the door open and grinning madly at bed. You fell face first onto it, every muscle sighing in utter relief. “Finally. I feel like I could sleep a hundred years.”

“One night,” he stated, hauling in a duffle bag and securing the door’s locks. “We leave in the morning. I need to be up north for my next job.”

You sat up and gathered your legs onto the bed with you. You grabbed the snacks, shuffling through each item for which one sounded the best. “You’re next target… Who is it?”

“It’s better if you don’t ask.” He set the large bag down onto the round motel table and zipped it open. He hesitated at first before removing the assortment of guns and ammo.

“Can I at least ask your name?” You pried open the chip bag, more than happy to grab the first handful of the salty treat.

He glanced over at you then set to work on counting the bullets, organizing them with the appropriate weapon. He was keeping track of inventory for whatever the next mission ahead would be.

“I have to call you something.” You munched on chip after chip, watching the way he moved with diligent determination. “Guy-who-saved-my-life-but-is-somewhat-questionable is way too long and I’m sure i’d muck it up every time.”

“Altair.” He grabbed one of the guns and began dismantling it. “The less you know about everything the safer you’ll be.”

The phone in his pants pocket began to vibrate. He pulled it out and pressed it to his ear, sternly, quietly without a word. He listened for a moment before grabbing the remote to the television and flicking it on. It went straight to the news, your face appearing next to video footage from the gas station only hours ago.

“You only know one side of the story.” Altair paced away from the television and your gawking. “You don’t know the truth.” He paused for a moment, a glare tossed your way. “I will handle my own affairs. Until my abilities are compromised, you have no authority.”

You slid your attention back to the screen, a poorly done sketch of Altair in a hood appeared next your picture. They named him the kidnapper, a possible suspect in your abduction. You mindlessly grabbed more chips from the bag and munched on them, the crunching sound blocking out most of Altair’s conversation.

He hung up the phone and began stowing weapons back into the duffle bag. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” You scrambled to your feet, snacks gathered into your arms. “We just got here.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder. “Now.”

You gave a heavy sigh, head thrown back. “Good bye soft squishy bed. Good bye sweet pillow.”

“You’re being childish.”

You tossed him a bitter glower.

“Steal the pillow if you want it so bad.” He marched for the door and went straight to the vehicle’s trunk.

You hugged your snacks to your chest than snatched up the pillow. It was only one pillow and damn if your back was tired of being against a stiff chair. You slid into the car just as Altair was getting in as well. He took note of the pillow then drove back out onto the highway.

“Where to?” You rummaged through your bag and found the candy bars.

“New identities.”


	29. Bound: Jacob Frye

With Jacob around nothing ever seemed to go right but damn if you weren’t glad he was there. You couldn’t imagine being captured with anyone better and not because he smelled delightfully of a smokey wood burning stove on an early morning or that fact that his back was pressed firmly into yours.

Jacob cleared his throat. “Are you even trying anymore?”

“Shut up.” The muscles in your arms were getting tired and it didn’t help that your hands were tied behind your back and not in front of you. If that had been the case, you both would have been freed by now. “You try picking a lock tied up like this.”

“Give me the pick and maybe I might just try.” He twisted in his seat behind you until he could look over his shoulder. “Then again, those nimble fingers of yours…” He curled his fingers until they caressed the inside of your palm.

Your fingers nearly lost the lockpick as you shoved your shoulder back into his. “Are you trying to make me drop it? It’s the only one I have.”

“I’m admiring your… skill.” He gave you his classic grin, a mix between a pleading puppy and a haughty lover. “Can I truly be to blame for how attractive you look while trying to free us?”

“Are you… flirting with me, Frye?” You gave a breathy laugh, barely able to twist the lockpick in the right place. “Someone’s trying to kill us and you’re flirting with me.”

He gave a low moan, leaning his head back to let his warmth envelop your shoulder. “I could be bleeding out on the floor and I’d still flirt with you, little sparrow.”

“Finally,” you muttered. The lockpick jolted, metal clattering into the floor. “How long do you think we have before they show up?”

“Oh, until they finish their tea parties and such.” Jacob got to his knees and spun around. He grabbed the lockpick and set to work on your own shackles. “Then again, I imagine evil villains don’t drink tea.”

“Blood,” you mused, “Definitely blood.”

He gave a toss of his head, a brief frown. “Probably puppy blood.”

The shackles fell away and a sigh passed your lips. You staggered to your feet just as Jacob was getting to his. He placed his hand onto your arm and stepped forward. He gave you a quick glance then pried the door open. There weren’t any guards on watch and that meant an easy escape through the closest window.

“Shall we?”

You nodded weakly. “After you, Frye.”


	30. Abstergo Pharmaceuticals: Shaun Hastings

Your gaze weaved between them, each of their expressions looking just as distraught as the next. “If it’s released can we… Can this be fixed?”

“Normally I’d lie and say yes.” Shaun pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Nothing like a bit of hope. However, in this situation, I’m not going to sugar coat this. If Abstergo manages to release this new drug out onto the market, there will be no way to stem the tide. I can’t even predict the outcomes.”

“The walking Shaun-opedia has no definitive answers?” Your brow rose teasingly, watching as he riled at the comment. “I’m concerned.”

“Ha,” mocked Shaun sharply. “Real comedian, you are. Now if you’re done being a jester, can we get back to the mission?”

Becca tried to type faster, various windows popping up before she closed them out for a new one. She hadn’t pulled her eyes from the screen since the whole ordeal started and the mere fact that she hadn’t said anything was utterly unnerving. Even Des, hunched forward in his chair, had been deathly quiet.

“What’s in this drug anyway?” You folded your arms across your chest and paced the small room, darting your eyes out the window towards the tall Abstergo building in the distance.

“Nothing good.” Shaun stood up as well and sauntered over towards Rebecca, seeing if she had cracked the code yet. “The only reason it made it past so many government officials is because… well, let’s be honest, Abstergo has a lot of fingers in a lot of pockets.”

Des sat up and pressed his spine into his chair. “Can we get in and stop them or not?”

Shaun looked over his shoulder at him, taking in how tired he looked. “The moment Rebecca breaks their encryptions, she can dismantle their security from the inside. We can destroy this factory but…”

“There are other factories.” You slid your glower back to the Abstergo building, its pristine walls and its glistening windows. “There’s no way we can stop them all. That drugs going to be sold worldwide.”

“Fuck.” Rebecca pushed away from her computer and jumped to her feet, fingers rushing to her skull in frustration.

“Did it not work?”

She gave a weak nod. “It worked but…” Her hands fell to her hips, clinging there before finally looking at everyone’s anticipation. “Most of their facility is underground. There’s no way we can destroy all of it. Not unless we send someone down there.”

“I’ll go.” You marched towards the doors, ready for whatever task was needed but he grabbed your hand. He squeezed it until you dared to look him in the eye. “I’ll be fine, Shaun. I can do this.”

His thumb brushed across the top of your hand. He stepped forward, words a soft whisper, “Don’t do anything stupid in there. We can’t lose you.”

You pecked a quick kiss to his cheek. “Love you, too.”


	31. Nothing is True: Shay Cormac

The mission was clear. Obtain Templar documents, destroy the information they collected on the precursor sites, and at all costs, remain undetected. You’d completed the first portion of the mission, documents tucked safely into your waistcoat. You checked the desk for anything that might give them an advantage over the Order but there wasn’t even a scrap to be found.

You heard his boot scuff across the wooden floor, your body spinning around with anticipation form an attack but he kept his distance. He even raised palms, the candle in the room flickering shadows across his expression. He didn’t look upset. He seemed to have expected this. “You don’t need to do this…”

Your eyes narrowed, palms curling over the edge of the desk behind you. “Why not? Because the Templars somehow know what’s best for the rest of the world?”

“You don’t know what Achilles did.” He stepped to the side, circling around you to sit down in the closest chair. “You don’t know what the precursor sites do, either.”

“I’m not going to believe Templars lies.” You pushed off of the desk and held your ground. “I’m afraid I have to kill you now.”

“I was an Assassin same as you, lass. We don’t have to fight.”

You rolled your eyes and gave a meager shake of your head. “You’ve seen my face. I can’t exactly let you leave. Orders are orders.”

His brows arched upwards, regretting suddenly what was about to happen. “Forgive me then. I only wish I could have helped you see the truth.” He stood up and leapt forward, hidden blade jutting from the sleeve of his jacket.

You blocked the first of his attacks but, just as he had said, he was an Assassin once. You didn’t expect him to be so skilled. His blade sunk into the softness of your flesh, leaving just as fiercely as it had entered. He shoved you around, your balance stumbling away from you. He tossed the blade so that both of his hands could wrestle your arms until they were pinned behind you.

“I won’t kill you,” he whispered, words nearly a growl against your ear. “I’m sick of killing my own. We’re the same side, you and I.”

You struggled but the pain from your wound sparked, searing up along your side. “I’m no Templar. You’d see us all dead before daring to give us the chance to be free.”

He shoved you, corralled you through the room towards the door. “I will show you that you’re wrong. I’ll prove it to you. Somehow, lass, you’ll see the truth.”

“You believe that…” You tried to glance over your shoulder at him but you didn’t need to see his expression. You heard it clearly on his words. Assassin’s were seekers of freedom and knowledge. Perhaps there was something to be learned from your enemy.


	32. Modern!Arno x Reader

His head was pounding, a cascade of pain that trickled from the crown of his skull and down into his eyes. He could only vaguely remember the events from the day before, the drinking and the bar fight, the disappointing way you looked at him. You had helped him during the night with each passing sickness. You wiped away sweat and vomit, helping him drink down cold water to soothe the pain in his throat.

His lips pulled taut into a hard grimace, an anger shuddering in his chest. He had let you see him yet again at his worst and that single thought alone destroyed him. He knew you deserved better than him, eyes rolling over to find you asleep in one of the dining chairs. You must have dragged it into the room sometime during the night, needing a vantage point over his chills.

He sat up, careful not to jostle his swimming migraine. He shoved the blankets away and padded across the room towards you. He kneeled down, eyes sweeping low across your expression towards the coffee mug slipping out of your grasp. His lips quirked as he tenderly took the cup before its remaining contents could spill out onto the floor.

You jolted, sucking down a deep gasp of air. You only settled until after you saw him kneeling before you. “Arno?”

“Do you want me to warm up your coffee?” He lifted the mug casually, rising to his feet and shuffling for the bedroom door. “I could use some myself.”

You gave a soft sigh, nursing your skull in your palm. “Yeah. Please.”

He knew you had to be tired after the ordeal last night. Alcohol poisoning, most likely. No, he corrected, it was definitely that. Drinking all that day and then drinking again after getting home… It hadn’t been the most sound decision but it felt like the only way to smolder the constant aching in his chest.

He rubbed his thumb across the smooth porcelain. “There’s a doughnut shop around the corner. I could go there and grab us something to eat.” He was halfway to the kitchen when he turned around, worried when you didn’t make a reply.

Arno could see it clearly, that uncertainty in the way you leaned against the door frame. You wanted to talk to him about last night, to ask him a million questions but your lips parted shyly and you muttered, “Just coffee.”

“I’ll make a fresh brew.” He sauntered off to the kitchen and poured the stale coffee out into the sink. He kept his mind busy. He focused on scooping out the coffee grounds into the espresso machine, gathering together all of the utensils for a proper and warm concoction. He realized how much he knew about you after the time together. He knew your favorite drink from the cafe, preparing it just how you liked it.

But after the cups were made he hesitated. He stared into their mirrored surface and saw the cuts and bruises that adorned his features. His gaze slid to the red and split skin along his knuckles, a throbbing ache to haunt him for the next few days. It would remind him that once again he was weak enough to turn to drinking.

He grabbed the warm porcelain coffee mugs and carried them into the living room. You were curled up in one of the hard chairs, feet tucked under you and eyes sweeping over to take in his stance. He felt so exposed under your gaze, his steps wavering as he set the drinks down onto the wooden coasters.

You reached out and took the cup in hand, wrapping your fingers against the warmth. You didn’t say anything. Your eyes were locked on the steam that whirled in the slight chill of early morning.

Arno finally reached out and took hold of the mug’s handle. He averted his gaze from both you and his busted knuckles. You deserved an explanation, he knew that much. But what you deserved more was to have never been pulled into his mess in the first place. “What happened last night, won’t happen again.”

You took a slow slip before peering over at him on the couch. “I know.”

His anxiety clenched in his throat and he shoved the coffee cup onto the table. “You should leave when you’re done with the coffee.

Your gaze was steady, brows pinching and lips pressing firm. “I’m here and I’m not leaving. We’re not having this argument again.”

Arno leaned forward, staring just as determinedly. “Why can’t you just go home and forget about all of this. Just forget about me entirely. You’re not responsible for me.”

Your words leapt from the tip of your tongue, “You called me from a jail cell.”

“I was… drunk.” He dipped his head away, finger curling into his palms. “I shouldn’t have called you last night. I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“Well you did. And do you even know why?” Your breath shuddered from your throat, your head ever so slightly shaking. “Why did you call me of all people?”

He was well aware why he’d called you out of all the other numbers. He didn’t have anyone else he could rely on. Everyone else had grown tired of his habitual drinking and depression. The Order wanted nothing to do with him and he honestly didn’t want anything to do with them either. Especially after Bellec’s death…

But mostly it was because he was selfish and the only person he wanted in that moment was you. He wanted your tender compassion, the way you made him feel like a person. It was a drunken and half thought out action. He didn’t consider the toll it would leave on you. Another mistake to add to his growing list.

“No, I guess not…” Your sigh was a hushed groan as you hugged the coffee to your chest. “It’s too late to regret it. I’m not just going to leave you here. Especially not here. Not to drink yourself to death.”

He swept his eyes up to yours, staring longingly for some sort of merciful end. Arno’s voice softened, a harsh whisper as he choked back his self loathing, “If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t think that way.”

“Stop it.” You sat up suddenly and carelessly let the mug clatter onto the coffee table. “What have you done that could be so terrible?”

“I’m a monster.” He jolted to his feet, an unsteady storm writing in his chest. “I’ve done horrible things to others. Things that… haunt me.”

“You know me. I’d never judge you.” Your feet slipped off the edge of the chair. You leaned forward, seeking out answers where he wouldn’t give them. “Whatever it is… it can’t be that bad.”

“It is. It’s worse than that.” Arno gave a weak shake of his head. When he saw your stare his gaze rolled up to the ceiling, a pathetic plea for someone to end his life then and there. “My father raised me on his own for a time.” He paced across the living room, fingers flexing anxiously at his side. “He was murdered by a… ‘group’ of men who call themselves Templars.”

“Arno…” Your fingers jolted to your mouth.

“Elise’s father took me in. He raised us both.” He finally managed to stop pacing, settled himself on the other side of the coffee table. “He was a Templar murdered by other Templars. I didn’t even know any of that until after he died. They kept me from it… When I found out the truth… I can’t do this.”

He could hear the sharp bite of regret in your words, “Arno, it’s okay.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. The moment I tell you…” His palm pressed against his mouth, hiding the grimace that tugged at the corners of his lips. “If you knew what I was you’d never forgive me. And I wouldn’t deserve forgiveness for all the things I’ve done.”

“Arno, listen to me.”

Arno shook his head, turning away until his back was towards you. He couldn’t bare the thought of you hating him. “You’re all I have left…”

“Would you just… trust me. Talk to me, Arno. Please?”

He dropped down against the arm of the couch, hunched over as he placed his head into his hand. “I joined the order that my father belonged to. Assassins. They were my best chance to find answers.” He peeked a quick glance at your expression, your brows rising high and your breathing rapid. Arno knew the signs of stress when he saw them. He was trained to after all.

“You said Assassins?” You worried the corner of your mouth between your teeth. “Like… hitmen?”

He stood up too quickly because he saw you flinch away. Arno knew from that moment onward he’d lost you. You would never look at him the same way. And that thought, the idea that someone so caring as yourself, could see him as evil was unbearable. “The Assassins have been around since… ancient times. They’ve… been dealing with the Templars for ages…”

“Are you still an Assassin?”

“No. They… disagreed with my methods. Elise and I hunted down her father’s killers without their approval. I just…” He furiously rubbed at his eyes, feeling them strain painfully under stress and agony. “I wanted redemption.”

“So you… killed the men who killed your loved ones? That’s why you think you’re a monster?” Your eyes weaved away, focusing intently on the grains in the hardwood floors. “It sounds like you were just trying to get justice, Arno.”

“It’s not justice.” He started pacing again, furiously trying to walk off the tension brewing in his bones. “It’s murder. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for Elise. I did everything for Elise. I had to somehow redeem myself but she was so obsessed that...” He felt his voice crack, the words inaudible even to his own ears.

You stood up, legs trembling beneath your weight. You managed to settle your fingers onto his arm, to stagger his pacing into submission. “Arno.”

“She died trying to get her revenge. I should have stopped her. I should have stopped myself.” His eyes fluttered and his voice barely made it past his lips, “If I’d only stopped and thought about things more clearly they’d all still be alive.”

You stepped closer to him, palms careening up and down his arm. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You didn’t know… Whatever happened, you couldn’t have known.”

Arno shivered, teeth grinding as a sickness swelled low in his stomach. Quickly, before he could sink to the floor, he grappled you into a hug. He pressed you to his chest and used you as an anchor in a desperate attempt to keep himself in reality. His knees buckled all the same and they dropped painfully to the hardwood floors.

You were pulled down with him. You remained frozen for a time, shocked or perhaps overwhelmed. But your arms slid around his neck to bury fingers into the short strands of his hair. “It’s going to be alright.”

His grip tightened, your body curving into his as he pressed the sleekness of his tears against your neck. “Why don’t you hate me? You should hate me for what I’ve done.” Arno dug at your back, fingers clawing into the cloth of your shirt. “I’ve hurt you, too.”

You leaned into him. Your head rested on the bend of his neck and you allowed him to cave around you. “I couldn’t hate you. You’re struggling right now. Sometimes people struggle and…” You sighed a gentler sound that seemed to put him at ease. “It’s not going to be easy but we’re going to survive this.”

His eyes slipped closed at the feeling of your hand against the back of his neck. The way your fingers squeezed and massaged, the way you spoke to him, always seemed to settle his anxiety. When you were around it was easy to forget about all of the lives he had taken and the careless mistakes he had made.


	33. Modern!Arno x Reader

You shouldn’t have answered the door. It hadn’t really occurred to you that the person on the other side would have been dangerous. You thought it’d be good for Arno to have company, especially since he fell asleep on the couch hours ago for the longest nap in recorded history.

You kneeled down next to the couch and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Arno.” You squeezed his shoulder when he began to startle from sleep. “There’s someone here to see you…”

His eyes were wide now. It happened too quickly for you to really take it all in. His hand snapped a gun from underneath the couch cushion. He was on his feet and shoving you behind him, using his body like a shield as the barrel of the gun founds its target. “Altair,” he stated it, his hand reaching back to make sure you were still safely behind him.

“Arno,” you breathed it, fingers curling around his shirt.

Altair strolled cautiously towards the chair on the other end of the coffee table. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”

“Friend?” He shuffled back, an awkward dance to put some distance between himself and the other man. “Acquaintances, at best.”

He was dressed rather well, a businessman of some sort you could only assume. He’d been stern when you answered the door and the way he took a seat in the chair, head high and back stiff. “Have you forgotten we once trained together?”

Arno’s hand squeezed at your waist, an attempt to keep not only you calm but himself. “Yes and I recall you stating clearly that I wasn’t ‘worthy’ of being an Assassin.”

“Clearly I was right.” He gave a quirk of his head, expression unmoving as his fingertips smoothed across the arms of the chair. “Do you miss those days? When we were all younger and naive.”

“Normally, I’d lie and say yes but I honestly don’t care about your feelings.” He allowed you to grab his hand, to lace your fingers with his and hug the muscles of his arm to your chest. “Why are you here?”

“Your name popped up on our scanners.” His attention rolled down to his suit, fingers smoothing out waistcoat and jacket. “You were arrested last night for brawling. That means you’ve been drinking again.”

Arno’s muscles stiffened at the sudden burst of fear.

Your heart clenched and the words jumped from your throat, “He was defending me. We were at the bar together and one of the guys… he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Altair’s gaze narrowed, burning through your poorly placed facade. But you ducked safely behind Arno to ensure your lie might hold up. He gave a hum of approval, languidly rising to his feet. “Careful, Arno. The Order doesn’t enjoy it when their secrets get out.”

Arno vigilantly watched as he left for the door, only daring to move away from you long enough to ensure the locks were in place. He raced back to you, gun tossed down onto the couch before his arms gathered you against his chest. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded your head furiously, eyes fluttering to keep back the tears. Fear twisted inside of your chest and you couldn’t help crying. “Yes. I’m alright. I’m okay.”

His arms kept squeezing around you, trying to gather you closer to him as if it would somehow cover you in armor. His cheek rubbed across yours, smearing your tears, and that prompted a quick brush of his thumb. “You should have never met me.” Arno jolted away from you. “You need to leave. I need you to leave.”

“Arno,” you squeaked, throat clamped tight as he hurried towards the coat rack. “I’m not leaving. We’ve already discussed this.”

“If you stay here, you could…” He jerked your coat off of the rack and snatched up your purse. “You aren’t safe here. I should have never…” His brows pinched, eyes unable to lift high enough to view your expression.

You growled it, stated it firmly, “I’m not leaving you. Whoever they are, I’m not...”

“They could come back. I’m not worried about the Assassins. I’m worried about… the Templars.” His hands were full with coat and purse but it didn’t stop him from shaking your shoulders. “I can’t lose you to this… this nightmare.”

“Then…” You rolled your eyes away, knowing that he was right. “My place. Stay at my place until…” You shook your head with dismay. “You can stay with me where it's safer.”

Arno’s hand lifted to your cheek, eyes searching yours furiously for an answer.

“Please, Arno.”

He gave a slow sigh, eyes slipping closed. “Mon Amie.”

You drew in your bottom lip, teeth scraping across it. “Please come with me.”

He took a staggered step back, fingers pressing at the tears that leaked through his closed eyes. He nodded weakly before turning towards his bedroom. “I’ll grab some clothes… Here take your things.” He turned back to you, gently pressing your things into yours arms. “The sooner we’re gone the safer you’ll be.”


	34. Ratonhnhaké:ton x Reader

“There are too many guards. We will need a distraction.”

You nodded rather slowly, taking in the enormity of the fort. Sneaking the both of you inside had been the easy part. It was getting one of you close enough to the general’s home that would be the true test of abilities. The general called his elite to the meeting and that meant every guard in the city was patrolling the base of the manor.

“If you start a small fire…” He pointed out over towards the armor,y a cluster of building that included a forge. “Many of the guards will go there to put it out. It would an opening.”

“Enough to get you in undetected.”

“I’ll make my way there.” He pointed to the space beneath the mansion terrace, a spot close to the forge and the upcoming fire. “We will meet outside the fort when it's done.”

When Ratonhnhaké:ton was far enough away you whistled one of the guards over. He drew his sword, eyes frantically searching the area for whatever intruder had the Gaul to break into a military establishment. Once he stepped close enough, you pulled him down, arm hooked tightly around his throat until he slumped into unconsciousness.

You stole his uniform, pulled the hat down over your features and carefully patrolled your way over towards the gathering of building. Thankfully the place was mostly empty save the few soldiers that wandered by towards the barracks, a minor change in the battlements patrols.

Your vision swept out towards Ratonhnhaké:ton to make sure the Assassin was in position. He was crouched down in the bushes with anticipation, an endless array of guards passing by him. 

You grabbed a long piece of wood, a makeshift torch that you prodded the forge’s fading flames with. The ashes swelled with reddening heat and eventually a fire clung to the torch. You marched over towards one of the carts filled to the brim with hay and lit its edges. You ensured the fire was well enough started before tossing the torch inside. Sadly, a guard shoved you just as the torch was thrown.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He spun you around to face him, the torch bouncing off the side of the cart and onto the ground.

“Well…” You smiled weakly, eyes catching sight of the torch rolling downhill.

“Well, what?”

You shrugged when you couldn't find an excuse quickly enough. “Well, nothing.” You had to act quickly, before he could call for help. You threw a punch with one hand while the other struck forward, blade sinking into the soft flesh of his throat.

You raced off to grab the torch but it had already rolled it's way into the fort’s stables. The flames lapped hungrily at every piece of available straw from one side of the stables to the next. And next to the stables was the storehouse, whatever resting inside no doubt the next victim of the fire’s greed.

Your brow rose as the exasperated sigh passed your lips. “He did ask for a distraction.”

You tossed aside the guard hat and strode across the courtyard towards the hidden entrance Ratonhnhaké:ton and you slipped through earlier. You barely stepped inside when an explosion quaked the sturdy foundation of the fort. “There goes the monthly gunpowder rations…”

You waited for Ratonhnhaké:ton on the peak of a hill, watching the raging and uncontrolled fire consume the fort. He joined you, just as mesmerized but the sharp irritation in his words couldn’t be missed. “When I said start a small fire… this is not what I was talking about.”

You failed to press away your smirk. “We managed to destroy their armory, stables, and gunpowder supplies… I call that a victory.”

He rolled his head to peer over at you and without even having to look you knew he was glaring from impatience. “We did not get the information that we came for.”

You gave a mocking shake of your head, a click of your tongue. “Never satisfied.”

His sigh was heavy and whatever annoyance he held was dissipating. He peered over at you just as you did the same, eyes meeting tenderly. His tone reflected the same, a subtle hint of humor beneath his staccato of words, “And why are you wearing that?”

You ran your hands down the uniform, leather belts and gold buttons, the well fitting cloth. “I wear it better than them.”


	35. Hitman pt3: Modern!Altair x Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might have a thing for Modern!Assassins

It had been hours since you’d last seen him. It wasn’t entirely unusual for him to disappear for long periods of time, finishing some odd job or, yes, hunting his assigned target. You still didn’t know much about his profession or the group of people he worked for. All you really knew was that his line of work was dangerous, to both himself and you.

“If I’m not back in twenty-four hours,” he said, grabbing his guns and holstering them, his jacket keeping a few from view. You watched him, his unmoving expression and the calm way he carried himself. It was just another mission to him, another day.

“I know.” You folded your arms across your chest, a failing attempt to keep from shuddering because this wasn’t just another normal day for you. You’d been with Altair for a month but each time he left was like the first time all over again. “I’ll check into the second location.”

“And after three days?” He darted his eyes towards you, unwavering stare keeping with your own.

“Get out of the country with the passports and fake IDs.”

He had given a satisfied nod of his head before sashaying through the hotel room and leaving. The door clicking shut behind him sent a sickness across your skin, a nervousness at being alone again.

You busied yourself with room service, movies on the television, eventually passing out around three in the morning. When you woke up you thought you’d see him in the corner, cleaning his guns or taking stock but...

It hadn’t been twenty-four hours yet. He still had an hour at least. Forty minutes if you were being completely honest about it. And you would wait those forty minutes because you knew, you just knew that Altair was going to show up soon. He’d walk through the door bearing his same confident too-good-for-this-world attitude.

Thirty-five minutes, you told yourself, refusing to pack up your clothes or double check the passports. You were not leaving the hotel until he showed up even after the twenty-four hours were up. You just couldn’t leave him. And you couldn’t go and find him. He hadn’t told you the location of his job.

The hotel door beeped and rattled open, jolting you from your seat. You hurried towards the hallway, your relieved sigh passing your lips too quickly to stop. He charged forward, door slamming shut behind him. His arms grappled around you and shoved you to the ground, his weight thrown on top of you like a shield.

“Altair?” You barely managed another word as the first gunshot rounded off, a series of them cascading through the air. Glass shattered out of the windows, clattering into the floor while the bullets pelted into the wall.

Altair’s hand cupped your head and pressed your clenched eyes into his chest. He was a heavy and comforting weight. If it weren’t for his arms around you, the cave he formed, you wouldn’t have been half as calm as you were. When the array of bullets ceased, the air a thickening silence, Altair lifted just enough to see your expression.

You took down a sharp breath, swallowing the next unsteady breath. “Altair, what the hell’s going on?”

“Keep low. Stay behind me.” He got up on his knees and snagged the duffle bag from the hotel coffee table.

But you stayed where you were, lying rigidly against the rough carpet as Altair grabbed your bags and placed them onto your stomach. Your arms slithered around them. You clutched them to your chest before rolling up onto your knees. You stayed behind Altair just as he suggested, hunched over and waiting for the next series of gunshots.

You whispered it, a secretive hush, “I guess your job didn’t go as planned.”

He glanced over his shoulder, the briefest of looks as he entered the hotel hallway. The hall was filled with shouting guests, the innocent bystanders frazzled by the gunshots they’d heard. Altair straightened his stance and faced you, looking you over with analysis rather than concern.

Your brows jolted at the sight, the slick darkness that stained his clothes. Your words were strangled, your throat clenched shut as you use your body like a shield. You didn’t want the other hotel goers to see. “Is that… Are you bleeding?”

“The blood on my shirt?” He casually glimpsed at it, finger barely touching the hem of his shirt as he pulled the wetness from his skin. “Would you feel better if I told you it wasn’t mine?”

You went to reply but you decided against it, tossing your head as well as the remark. “What now? We can’t exactly walk out the front door.”

He hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you down the hall. His hand tugged the pistol from his belt, letting the weapon rest in his hand even while entering into the crowd of people. You allowed yourself to press against him. You took in his warmth, the heat of his hand against your hip.

A couple ran out of their hotel room, one dragging the other by the hand to evacuate the building. Altair slammed his hand against their hotel room door before it could slide shut. He slipped inside of the room, allowing you to do the same.

Altair set down his bag then slid the curtains closed. “This will be safe enough for now.” He tossed you a hard pressed glower when you waltzed unabashed through the room. “You should have left for the second location.”

Perhaps it was his presence, how safe he made you feel, but you smirked at him. “You still had thirty minutes.”

His jaw clenched and his brows furrowed together. The muscles in his body flexed with tension, pushing your back into the closest wall. Altair’s feathers were twisted by unbridled anger and cornered beneath it you felt weaker than ever. “You could have been killed. This isn’t a game.”

You kept yourself from shrinking away from him. Altair wouldn’t hurt you. He had already saved your life twice over and he more than put up with your childish whims. You spoke softer but no less determined, “I know. Next time I’ll be prepared.”

He rolled his eyes closed before stepping back and shoving his fingers through the thick curls of his hair. “We need to take more precautions. You need… training.”

You drew in your bottom lip. Before Altair could step too far away, you slipped your hand around his arm and held on firmly. “So, does this mean I get to join you on your next job?”

He shot you a heated glare.

“Joking,” you mumbled, “Only joking.”

Altair was still rather annoyed but his arm curled around you all the same. “We have ten minutes to catch our breath. Then we move.”


	36. Modern!Haytham x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where Haytham cleverly plays the double agent for the Assassins/Templars

You fingertips smeared clean the blood that dappled you cheek. Your lips went taut in slight annoyance, hating the way blood thickened and clung to everything it touched. This wasn’t the first time you had to clean blood off your skin or out of your clothes.

Your opponent made another valiant effort to take you down. But his skills, although worthy of remark, were far from equal to your own. You shoved him back into the table and vase behind him, knocking them both off kilter. As glass and ceramic shattered to the floor, you threw the final punch that sent him down to his knees, another spray of blood shooting across the carpet.

Master Kenway gave a click of his tongue, a heavy sigh as he approached. He’d been quietly watching from the sidelines, letting you diligently do your job as a bodyguard. “This is why we can never have nice things.”

You raised a chiding brow at your kneeling rival before teasingly sneaking a peek at the prestigious man at your side. “It was his favorite vase. He bought it while we were in Istanbul.”

“You know very well I hated it…” He scoffed, horrified at the mere mention of it.

“It’s why I bought it. Oh! My apologies.” You smirked, rolling your heated gaze back to the cowering intruder. “Did I say his favorite? I meant mine.”

The intruder flinched at that, eyes darting up to check what expression you wore. He knew then that he was not only out matched but things were growing worse by the moment. He ducked his head away but you saw clearly as he cringed from the wounds on his face, sharpening when he moved too quickly.

Master Kenway’s hand trailed softly along your arm before disappearing, his steps carrying him across the room where a decanter and glass were waiting. “My dear?” He held his hand towards the amber liquid, sounding far more chipper than he should have.

“A man broke into your home, tried to kill you, and... you’re offering me a drink?”

“No need to be uncivilized about it, my dear. I am alive and well. Does that not call for a drink?” The corner of his lip tugged into a smirk, a brief flex of his cocky ego. Even after all the years you’d been by his side, it was still surprising how casual he took these things. 

You shot your attention back to the intruder. “Tell me a name or so help me I will break a finger for every second you make me wait.”

“I’ve seen her do it.” Master Kenway lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the sharp drink on his tongue before swallowing. “It’s not pretty.”

A breath shuddered out of his chest and he leaned forward slightly, a sickness perhaps washing over him. “I’ll tell you everything. Just let me go.”

He chuckled, a hand tucked behind his back while he sauntered forward. “You’ve seen my face. I can’t exactly allow you to leave here.” There was always something about the way he walked across a room that set your senses on fire. Perhaps it was the way he dressed, the trim button down and the slimming slacks that clung to his thighs, but Haytham was hard to look away from.

The trespasser's head shot up and it must have been painful because his brows pinched under the agony, a groan just barely swallowed. “I… won’t say a word. No one will know it was you, I swear.”

You lifted the gun and pressed the metal of its muzzle against his forehead. “Tell me who it was that sent you and I won’t start breaking bones.”

“The Assassins. A branch located in the southwest region. They saw a data trail leading--” The gunshot caught the rest of his words. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You already knew it. In fact, you had known it was going to go this way eventually. Haytham was double crossing them as well as the Templars, lulling them both into his control.

Master Kenway took another ginger sip as he strolled over to you, not at all unsettled by the gunshot or the man’s words.

“I told you they’d find this place.” You turned sharply to him, infuriated that he wasn’t more concerned about it. “If the Assassins, if Abstergo, finds out you're playing them both--”

“They won’t find out.” He set aside his glass, a hand tenderly curling around your elbow. “First, we burn this place and all the evidence. Then we shall go and pay our little data thief a visit. We should inform him to better cover his tracks next time.”

You leaned into the minor touch. It wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d ever done but you couldn’t help but feed of of it. And he was highly aware the effect he held on you. You only barely managed to keep your tone even, “He did this on purpose. He’s too good to get caught.”

He raised his chin, leaning closer but not quite close enough. “Then we kill him as well.”


	37. Dating the Assassins

**Altair** is constantly working whether he’s tracking down the next target or trying to rebuild the Order. But when he does get the opportunity to take time off, he grabs you and the closest pair of horses. He takes you far from Masyaf and any Assassin Bureau to ensure the little vacation isn’t disturbed (and I’m certain he threatened anyone who dared). You spend the next few days at some desert oasis, sipping on mint tea and burying your feet in the soft lushness of grass. Altair takes the quiet moment to sketch his surroundings but mostly pictures of you.

 **Ezio** needs grand gestures, more for himself than for you. He needs to prove to the world and everyone watching that you’re important to him. So, he takes you to the finest restaurant to dine, ordering expensive wines and hiring a minstrel to sing songs. After the dinner, he travels with you through the markets trying to buy every item you give the slight attention. After all of the over extravagance, Ezio enjoys most the pampering done at home with more wine and rich desserts.

 **Ratonhnhaké:ton** overthinks everything that has to do with you. So the whole date idea frightens the hell out of him. Staying home together without anyone or anything to distract is ideal. He loves most being able to start the fireplace, to grab the softest blankets and pillows in the house and gather them together into a large pile. He assembles your favorite snacks, ensuring you never have to leave the room or his side for the rest of the night. He spends his time memorizing your features, letting his fingers trace bone and skin while you talk about your day.

 **Edward** isn’t known for being in an actual relationship but he’s learned from his mistakes and knows how to spoil someone he truly loves. Going to the tavern for fun is one thing but a true date, he makes sure it's just the two of you alone. He leads you for walks on the beach, retelling stories he’s heard from other sailors, until the two of you reach some empty shack where both food and rum are waiting. He spends the rest of the evening and night with you, well into the morning when you finally have to return to the ship.

 **Arno** is first a bit nervous and rigid, taking you to cafes and restaurants to dine with unpracticed propriety. It isn’t until you make him smile or laugh that he eases into the date, reaching across the table to stroke your hand with his. He convinces you to leave the restaurant with him, calling it boring and plain. Instead he sneaks you into the largest cathedral, climbing the steps to the highest of its towers to watch the city below shift from the bustle of day to the soft haze of night.

 **Shay** always manages to set aside his duties as a Templar long enough to take you traveling. He wants to visit every continent that has an open port, even if that means taking a job in a foreign land just for the excuse to go there. He eagerly tastes the foods with you, taking you from one street vendor to the next, strolling through the maze of markets and bazaars. Even when he doesn’t speak the language, he’s all smiles and laughs, connecting with each person he comes across.

 **Haytham** is more than eager to host a symposium at his home, using it as an excuse to invite you into his house and further into his life. He also enjoys the arts so when your relationship becomes more set in stone he takes you to the next showing at the opera house or symphony. What he enjoys most, is the subtle way of showing you around in public, secretly delighted to hook his arm with yours to claim you in the public eye. He spends most of the evening whispering his sassy and snarky comments in your ear, making you giggle and others raise brows.

 **Desmond** , surprisingly, loves road trips and nature. Most dates are out on the town but, at the first opportune moment, he’s dragging you cross country to view one natural landmark after the next. He brings his camera and takes pictures of everything whether it’s you standing next to some statue or eating your next meal. He’s more than willing to stargaze, falling asleep with you in his arms while snuggled up nicely in a sleeping bag.

 **Shaun** loves history and there’s nothing quite as endearing as museums filled to the brim with knowledge. He takes you to the museum’s archives where dusty tomes and firsthand accounts are waiting to be read. He has access to the artifacts that have only just been entered into museum's inventory, unseen by human eyes since their finding. Even with all his connections, from curators to professors, a quaint little bookshop suits him just as delightfully. He enjoys the scent of paper both fresh and aging. He lounges in the store with a book in hand, your head leaning against his shoulder while you silently read your own book.

 **Jacob** is rowdy and loud and he wants everyone in the pub to know he’s there. He’s taken you to pubs and fight clubs, encouraging you to be just as rambunctious as him. He’s there to not only show off but to show you off to the rest of the world, more than happy to be smashed while doing it. After all the time he spends with the Rooks, however, he’s more delighted to be alone with you. He takes you down to the Thames, finding some quiet spot to look out over the water together, boasting about the last mission or cracking some joke.

 **Evie** is a romantic at heart. So, when you finally manage to pry her away from her vigilant research, she’s more than happy to stroll through the park or talk quietly over cake and tea. But at the end of the day, she just wants someone to snuggle against her while reading her favorite novella. She loves narrating the story aloud, enthusiastically acting out dialogue and scenes. And when she’s comfortable enough, she even shares that she’s secretly been writing her own series of novellas.


	38. Hitman 4: Modern!Altair x Reader

“We have listened to this song ten times.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, throttling the hard leather as if he were trying to strangle the car itself.

“I know.” You giggled somewhat delightfully as the song began again, preparing yourself to sing the lyrics you memorized. “Shh. This is the best part.”

Altair finally struck his hand at the radio, silencing it completely. “Ten times.”

“C’mon.” You gave a low groan, slouching deeper into the passenger seat. “Seriously, dude, you’re no fun. We’ve been in this vehicle for eight hours.”

He tossed you a quick and stern glower. “We just stopped and ate lunch.”

You rolled your eyes. “Two hours ago.” You childishly shoved your back against the seat as if it would somehow make things softer. You reached into the backseat and snatched hold of the pillow, the one you stole all those months ago. You shoved it against the seat, squishing it until you thought it’d be soft enough.

“We are not stopping again.” He gave a low groan, leaning forward as if it would help him concentrate.

You rubbed your spine against the pillow. “Why don’t you ever let me drive?”

He didn’t even look in your general direction. “I hope you are not being serious.”

You huffed, mouth wide at his suggestion. “What? Why not?”

“You are like a small child. You complain about everything. If you drove, we would stop at every gas station to grab a drink then stop at the next gas station to pee.” He darted a quick look at you and the pillow. “You stole a pillow from a hotel room and don’t get me started on all of the movies you bought at the last hotel.”

You bitterly reached out and shoved his shoulder as hard as you could. “How is renting movies considered childish? I was bored! God, you left me there for two days. ” You shoved your back against the seat again, the pillow doing little to make things comfortable. “You didn’t even call to let me know you were alive. Ass!”

Altair jerked the wheel, forcing the car to the side of the road before slamming on the breaks. He gritted his teeth, lips pulled back as he stared into the speedometer. He growled through his teeth, “I am sorry. Alright? Sorry!”

You reached across the console, barely brushing fingertips across the taut muscle of his arm. You felt him coil away from the touch just before leaning into it. “I know. I just… hate it when you disappear like that.”

His hands fell away from the wheel and he leaned back in his seat. He tilted his head away, finding the words before muttering, “I was ambushed. They had me pinned down. That’s why I didn’t call.”

You curled your fingers around his arm, squeezing it tenderly before smiling. “You know what’ll make it better?” You reached out and cranked up the music, tossing him your haughtiest grin. “Music!”

He gave a groan but it wasn’t quite so serious as before. He pulled the car back onto the road, his hold on the wheel looser and his elbow pressed lazily against the console. “Could we play a different song ten times?”

“One more time, I swear.” You leaned over the console, grinning all too sweetly. “Then we’ll listen to your music.”

He peered over at you, softness to his eyes that you saw on rare occasions. “Fine. Once more.”


End file.
